


Don't Play Pretty

by lauraens



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraens/pseuds/lauraens
Summary: Whizzer didn't know what made Marvin so special. He didn't know why he deigned to spend so much of his time on the man (and under him, for that matter), why he humoured, even encouraged, his biting remarks and snide comments, and why he relished the opportunity to make the other man crumble with desire and frustration.





	1. He’s A Queen

“Excuse you, _rude_ ,” Whizzer scoffed after a practically pubescent, marginally overweight man barged into his shoulder in an attempt to enter the bathroom.

“Dude, _you_ shoved _him,_ ” Cordelia cackled and thrust another shot into his chest as they navigated themselves through the throngs of people.

“Well, it’s not my fault the man was occupying the entire of the walkway, Jesus H. Christ,” he replied with a roll of his eyes and a barely contained grin. “Cheers. I fucking love you.”

“I’ll drink to that,” the blonde grinned, wincing as the liquor burned its way down her throat. “You know, I am _done_ with Charlotte,” she began, eliciting an internal groan from Whizzer. There seemed to be no shortage in what Cordelia could say about the girl. “If only you were there, Whizzer, you would make fun of me _so_ bad. I am quite _literally_ the poster child for unrequited love. Honestly, she says anything and I’m there, laughing as if she’s made the funniest fucking joke in the world, and what’s worse is that I _think_ it’s the funniest joke in the world— _just because she’s said it!"_ She exclaimed hysterically. "Does that make me desperate? God, I don’t even care. And the _eyes_ I send her constantly,” she slurred, frustrated and hopeless, “she sends them back, I swear! Christ, I want to shake her and tell her to just put me out of my misery and _ask me out already!”_

“If you’re so infatuated with this girl, why don’t _you_ just ask _her_ out?” Whizzer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed—as if it were ever _just that easy._

Charlotte Baker. Not only did Cordelia have an overwhelming and soul-destroying attraction to her Chemistry partner, she was—Whizzer was convinced—in _love_ with the girl. Despite only having met her a couple of times—times in which he had actually deigned to attend the class—Whizzer would admit she was endearing. Intelligent and witty, he pegged her as a good match for his best friend. Which was saying something, considering Whizzer’s opinion on this subject matter was paramount to Cordelia, and Whizzer, himself, was not about to treat any future partner of Cordelia’s without the utmost seriousness. She deserved the best after everything she’d been through with him.

Cordelia gave him a short look. “Don’t be an ass, Whizzer. You think I have the confidence for that?”

“Well, why the hell not?” He rolled his eyes. “My God, it’s like you don’t even realise how incredibly sexy you are, ‘Delia. I’m telling you, if I were in _any_ way interested in tits, I’d be all over you in a heartbeat. That’s not an exaggeration. I’d go full-on Christian Grey on your ass. Sex slave contract and everything.”

She jutted her bottom lip out sullenly, her expression unwaveringly petulant. “But you’re not Charlotte.”

Giving her a determined look, he placed his hands on her shoulders firmly. “You know what you need? A little alcoholic detox. Cocktails and a well overdue screw.”

She lifted her eyes, sadly mumbling, “there’s no such thing as an alcoholic detox.”

He slapped her across the face lightly. “Snap out of it.”

She jerked back a little, taken off-guard. “Wow, yeah, okay. I needed that.”

“Okay, you stay here,” he ordered her, “and I am going to get us some drinks. Promise you won’t start crying when I leave?”

“Please, you don’t need to _babysit_ me,” she rolled her eyes. Whizzer gave her a short look, causing her to place an exasperated hand on her hip and nod reluctantly. _“Yes,_ I promise.”

He grinned, releasing her from his hold. “‘Atta girl,” he took a few steps away. “Don’t move.”

She playfully flipped him off as he migrated towards the bar, jokingly pointing at where she was standing as a promise she would remain.

Sliding into a stool at the bar, he began attempting to attain the bartender’s eye, feeling his gaze instinctively fall to the man’s ass from where he was serving somebody else. The guy turned after a moment, a smirk creeping onto his face once he’d witnessed Whizzer staring, the clear interest in his expression practically _guaranteeing_ a good night. He strolled over to where Whizzer was perched, leaning across the bar with a grin. “What’ll it be, princess?”

Whizzer smirked, playfully raising an eyebrow. “You on the menu?”

“Can be if you’d like,” the guy leered, his tongue rolling across his lips. With an angular jawline and his height, _alone_ , he was practically the epitome of Whizzer’s type. Perhaps his search for a satisfying screw had ended, the latter mused with satisfaction.

“Tempting offer,” he teased, leaning forward and sending his most compelling bedroom eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d extend such a generous invitation to later tonight?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man grinned, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“What does a guy have to do to get a beer around here?” A voice grumbled pointedly to his left, successfully grabbing Whizzer’s attention. He regretfully tore his eyes from the ridiculously attractive bartender to settle his gaze on a man around his own age, leaning against the counter and glaring at Whizzer so intensely he was surprised he hadn’t been incinerated on the very spot.

Whizzer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the interruption. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to join us later tonight, all you had to do was ask.”

And, ordinarily, that would’ve been it. He’d have turned back to the man across the counter with the promise of a fuck against the bar later tonight, and ended the interaction then and there.

But, this guy—he _hesitated._

His lips parted in surprise as he stared at Whizzer with wide, blue eyes, clearly taken off-guard. And _that,_ above all, was what Whizzer found most intriguing.

In his apparent stupor, Whizzer noted the ill-fitting and frankly _heinous_ apparel the man was donning, from the worn plaid shirt and outdated green jacket to his belted chino pants. Whatever dire choices were made in the man’s decision to actually buy such a combination, let alone wear it in _public_ , baffled Whizzer. Nonetheless, the hard muscle underneath the shirt, the soft waves of his hair and the handsome face of the man aroused in him a slight stir of interest.

After a pregnant pause, Whizzer cast a look back at his expression. “Are you having a stroke?”

The man was immediately jolted out of whatever daze he’d fallen into, the hard edge returning to his eyes. Had it not been for the telltale flush creeping up his neck, there was no indication he’d been affected by Whizzer’s words at all. He scoffed, his voice scathing and derogatory. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You’re deflecting,” Whizzer countered, swivelling to face the man. He was pretty sure he could distantly hear the bartender attempting to regain his attention, but couldn’t be certain, what with his own gaze resolutely locked on the handsome stranger to his left.

The man narrowed his eyes. “The answer is _no._ Hate to break it to you, but not everybody in this bar wants to sleep with you.”

“Not everyone,” Whizzer conceded, fixing the man with a challenging look. “Just you and him,” he nodded to the bartender, who had long since disappeared and was now in the process of serving somebody else.

The tinge of pink which tinted the man’s cheeks confirmed Whizzer’s suspicion, causing his own amusement to grow tenfold. Closet cases were _so_ easy to rile up. Whizzer found the action strangely endearing. 

Oblivious to his musings, the man rolled his eyes. “You wish. Do I _look_ queer to you?”

Whizzer gave him an amused look in return. “You really want me to answer that?”

The man crossed his arms, drawing Whizzer’s eyes to the action. And, _fuck,_ was he jacked. His arms practically screamed _I could lift you up and fuck you right on this stool if you’d like._ Whizzer could feel his tongue lathe over his lips as he admired the soft swelling of his biceps, his throat running dry imagining the faint veins protruding from beneath smooth skin, the unbridled strength those arms would provide, wrapping around him and simply _taking._ He was knocked out of his reverie by the guy’s insistent voice. 

“That’s cute. Really. But, contrary to what you think, I’m not interested in guys.”

There was no excusing the breathiness that had crept into the man’s voice. Whizzer lifted his eyes, surprised to find the other’s gaze transfixed on his lips. In response, Whizzer ran his tongue over his bottom lip once, tantalizingly slow, enjoying the way the guy’s breath hitched a little. Drunk with the attention, his hand moved on its own accord, coming to rest on the other man’s knee. He leaned in, smirking invitingly. “You sure about that?”

As if the action was strictly a subconscious one, the man’s eyes dropped almost immediately to begin roaming over Whizzer’s green form-fitting open-collared shirt, his tight black trousers and immaculately styled hair. Whizzer did not miss the seemingly unconscious bite of his lip, or the darkening of his eyes.

And—truthfully? Maybe it was due to how absurd Whizzer found the notion that _this_ man, this perfect stranger he’d taken an interest to, was under the _ludicrous_ impression that he was, in every sense of the word, sexually attracted to females, _exclusively._ Maybe it was because the tension between them had just been kranked up to a whole new definition of _chemistry._ Maybe he was just really fucking drunk. 

But, in that moment, there was no possible way Whizzer could’ve refrained from bursting into laughter.

It was as if the sound had resonated with the guy like a bolt of electricity, his face hardening as he immediately tensed.

Whizzer honestly would’ve stopped if he could. Fuck, the guy was _blushing._ “Oh,” Whizzer laughed, trying to catch his breath as he swayed forward slightly, his hand clutching the other man’s leg to stabilise himself. “Oh, wow, your face.”

“What?” He demanded.

“It’s just,” Whizzer grinned, leaning back. His hand slipped from the man’s knee, causing the latter’s eyes to flash to the area in which Whizzer’s palm had been. “I know a straight-laced heterosexual when I see one, and _you,_ sir, take the cake.”

The guy glared at Whizzer’s sarcasm, his body tense and posture ramrod straight. “You know, you’re a real asshole.”

Whizzer grinned. “You’re only just realising that?”

The man continued to scrutinise Whizzer with narrowed eyes before sourly turning back to the bar and calling the bartender over.

Whizzer pouted playfully, his amusement still lingering on his face. “Oh, don’t be like that. I just get a kick out of closeted men, is all. Now, is that really so bad?”

He rolled his eyes, ordering a beer as the bartender continued to send Whizzer furtive glances from the corner of his eye. “Yes. That’s _clearly_ bad.”

“Want me to make it up to you?” Whizzer ignored him, smirking and leaning forward to regain his attention. They’d shifted gradually closer throughout their interaction, knees now pressed together and feet intentionally moving to slide against one another’s, fleeting touches to indicate mutual interest.

The other man glanced at Whizzer, at their newfound proximity, as he pulled the beer towards himself. Whizzer’s eyes zoned in on the way his thumbs traced circles into the bottle, his index finger skirting up the length of it before running his thumb along the rim. Whizzer felt an immediate pang of heat stirring in his groin.  “And how would you do that for me?” The guy murmured, his voice laced with anticipation.

Impulsively, Whizzer wrapped his hand around the bottle, dragging it towards himself. He lifted it to his mouth, pink lips wrapping around the head of the bottle, feigning innocence as he tipped his head back and took a long swig. He retained eye contact, feeling himself heat up a little at the guy’s wanton gaze, transfixed on Whizzer’s slick mouth and the neck of the bottle, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

The other man gulped, eyes still fixated. “You know, I have a girlfriend,” he stated, more of an absent reminder to himself than anything.

Whizzer sighed dramatically, dropping the beer bottle to the counter as he realised there was no way in hell he’d be getting laid sitting here. “You're no fun,” he said, turning away and moving to slip off of the stool. He was halted in his actions as the guy’s hand suddenly gripped his thigh.

“Stay,” he demanded.

Whizzer had to refrain from smirking as he obliged, turning once more. He didn’t comment on the way the man didn’t remove his hand, the touch burning into Whizzer’s leg. “I’ll stay. If you tell me your name. Can’t sit here all night with a stranger, now, can I?”

“Somehow, I have a feeling you have very few qualms about spending nights with strangers,” he groused. His eyes flickered to meet Whizzer’s and after a moment’s hesitation, admitted, “Marvin.”

“Of course it is.” Whizzer huffed a laugh. “Trust _you_ to have the literal epitome of a dad name to fit this whole dad aesthetic thing you have going on.”  
  
Marvin rolled his eyes. “Y’know, it’s common courtesy to return the favour when someone offers you their name.”  
  
“Oh, and of course you’re someone who follows what is _common courtesy._ You and your girlfriend stick to just missionary in bed too, I’m guessing?”

Marvin narrowed his eyes, inadvertently answering Whizzer’s question. “You know nothing about my sex life.”

Whizzer raised his eyebrows, amused. “Oh, I don’t?”

“No,” Marvin snapped. “You don’t, as a matter of fact. Not that it’s any of your business, anyway. If I were you, I’d be more concerned with my _own_ sex life.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Whizzer crossed his arms, prickling at the other man’s tone. “Please. Enlighten me.”

“You’d go home with the first man who looks your way,” Marvin sneered. “And, in this case,” he nodded to the bartender, “he’s the lucky guy with the privilege.”

“You could take me home, instead,” Whizzer suggested.

“No,” Marvin rushed to say. “My girlfriend’s coming over in the morning.”

Not _I’m straight._ Not _I don’t want to take you home because I’m not attracted to you._ Instead, it was: _I don’t want to take you home because my girlfriend could catch us._

Marvin’s face was twisted with irritation. The sight caused Whizzer’s lips to quirk in satisfaction.

“You want to know what _I_ think of your sex life, Marv?” Whizzer purred.

“Don’t call me that,” he bit out.

Whizzer leaned closer, crowding him against the bar and brushing Marvin’s ear with his lips as he murmured, “how long’s it been, huh? A month? _Two?”_ Marvin stilled, his breath stalling. Whizzer felt a thrill zip along his spine. Now, _this_ is what he'd been searching for each night—someone to rile up, to tease. He felt starved for what he hadn't even known he'd been craving. “I bet she does everything right, too. Leads you to the bed, slips off her panties and opens her legs right up for you.” Whizzer let his hand fall to Marvin’s thigh and felt the muscle tense underneath his palm. “I bet she purrs and moans just like you think she should, and doesn’t question why her boyfriend can’t look her in the eyes, thinking of anything but her, anything to keep you _hard.”_ His fingers slid tantalizingly higher and Marvin’s eyes flashed to Whizzer’s warningly; warning him to stop, or to continue, he wasn't even sure Marvin knew, himself. “I bet she cries after, too, asking God why _she,_ of _all_ people,” his hand reached the top of his thigh and he began to slowly rub back and forth, a hint at what _could_ be had his hand been mere _inches_ higher. He felt his dick stir as Marvin's eyes slid shut, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “—had to end up with a boyfriend who is such an undeniable, raging,” Marvin’s fingers gripped his wrist as Whizzer let his eyes flutter closed, breathing across his lips, _“queer.”_

Marvin almost buckled under the weight of the word. “Please,” he whispered softly as his hold around Whizzer’s wrist tightened, causing heat to immediately pool in Whizzer’s groin, imagining the way those deft fingers could create bruises on his wrists in the midst of passion. Smiling sweetly, he patted Marvin’s thigh as if in some form of consolation, as if his own cock wasn’t beginning to throb at the thought of taking the other man apart tonight. “And it’s Whizzer.”

With that, he lifted his palm and slid off of the stool. “See you around, Marv,” he leered, sauntering back into the crowd.

Suffice it to say Cordelia was less than impressed when Whizzer returned empty-handed.

Whizzer watched the exit from the corner of his eye. Marvin left the bar moments later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! let me know what you think, all feedback is welcome!  
> i'm planning to update every week or two if possible by the way :)


	2. Hell, I’m Smart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if your fic doesn’t feature a scene in which there’s some dispute over whether whizzer’s name is real or not are u really writing a falsettos fanfic

Marvin didn’t come back to the bar that week. Or any other week, for that matter.  
  
Whizzer knew this, of course, because he _had_. The next few weeks continued in much the same fashion. Late nights in crowded clubs, never without a drink in his hand. Cordelia complaining about her increasingly desperate situation regarding Charlotte. Invitations to leave with charming strangers. Wash, rinse, repeat.  
  
Inevitably, they were bound to reach a point in which some form of respite was necessary. That point came three weeks in, in which Whizzer had a hand clenched to his abdomen as he keeled over the toilet and Cordelia lay splayed on the floor, breathing heavily.  
  
“Whizzer, I can’t go out again tonight. Or the night after. Or any other night this year,” his best friend moaned, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead.  
  
Whizzer retched at the thought of drinking again. He blamed Summer; the heat and the fruity cocktails and the need to fully experience their youths. Or, at least as much as they _could_ experience before Senior year started. Which just so happened to be in a couple of hours.  
  
“If you’re under the impression I’ll be drinking again in this _lifetime_ , let alone _tonight_ , you are sorely mistaken,” he mumbled, too fatigued to inject any proper inflection into his voice, “I’m calling it. We need to transition to Coke.”  
  
Rising from the floor, Cordelia snorted. “Yeah, and ruin that pretty little nose of yours? You wouldn’t allow it.”  
  
After a second of consideration, Whizzer conceded. “Touché.”  
  
Slender arms wrapped around his neck from behind as she complained, “it reeks of sex and booze in here. You couldn’t wait until the bedroom?” She scrunched up her nose. “This is a _communal_ area, Whizzer. I’m going to have a field day disinfecting in here tomorrow.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “For your information, he only blew me in here. The sex was done in your bed.”  
  
She flicked him sharply on the back of the head.  
  
“That better be a fucking joke, asshole,” she called over her shoulder, sauntering into the kitchen, “I would hate to have to use up all of your hair product. What a _bloodbath_ that would be.”  
  
* * *  
  
Despite their former state of disarray, not only had they arrived on time, they just so happened to be _early_. Whizzer couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anything but late in the last _decade_.  
  
Slumping into his seat at the back of the class, Whizzer already expected to pass the time by sleeping through it. The Intro to Poetics class he’d enrolled in was, without doubt, a bullshit class. That was evident from the individuals trickling into the room, pretentious assholes with oversized sweaters, lensless glasses and an abundance of piercings. He rolled his eyes in vain, asking himself for the umpteenth time _why_ he had thought it would be a good idea to sign up.  
  
“This seat taken?” A brunette sweetly inquired, referencing to the seat on his left and ringing her hands together nervously.  
  
Whizzer gestured lazily at the space. “Knock yourself out.”  
  
She smiled gratefully, settling into the chair. “Thanks. My boyfriend has quite literally fallen off the face of the Earth. I was worried I’d have to sit alone.“  
  
Whizzer _really_ wasn’t in an entertaining mood. Clearly, his body language hadn’t articulated his unsociable and taciturn mood to the degree he was hoping, the _fuck off_ plastered on his forehead not explicit enough by a landslide.  
  
“Trina,” she extended her hand with that same saccharine grin still plastered on her face, making it evident she’d had ample time to practise in the mirror. Whizzer instantly pegged her as the unassuming sort, the sort who lived as if their sole purpose was to please.  
  
He glanced down at her hand, flicking his eyes back to hers soon after, as if to say _really, we’re really shaking hands, in college?_ but nevertheless taking her palm in his and introducing himself.  
  
“Wow, Whizzer, huh?” She laughed, “Not a name you hear everyday.”

 _“Definitely_ not the response _I_ hear everyday,” he rolled his eyes at her lack of originality, expecting an affronted reaction to his gall. He was, however, taken aback by her answering chuckle.  
  
“Yeah, guess that gets pretty old, huh?”  
  
“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe,” he huffed, warming to her ever so slightly.  
  
Their conversation was derailed by a sharp slam of the door. A stout man with a waistcoat and a small goatee whisked into the room, briskly addressing the class. “Good morning, and welcome to the most comprehensive and thought-provoking Poetics class you are likely to ever take. Unless you’re lucky enough to have me next year, of course,” he let out a full-bellied laugh and Whizzer raised an eyebrow at the man’s theatrics. All things considered, Whizzer was hardly one to talk; he had a streak a _mile_ wide for the dramatics.  
  
The class soon continued and, as anticipated, he felt his eyelids drooping slightly—whether that was a result of last night, or the subject itself, however, he couldn’t tell. Regardless, the rise and fall of the professor’s voice was lulling him straight to sleep. He had only just began to drift off, when a familiar voice stirred his interest.  
  
“Sir, I apologise, I couldn’t find the room, and when I asked for directions at the office, the woman sent me the wrong way, and then I ended up in the wrong building and had to find my way back but I didn’t know which door was which—”  
  
_Marvin_. The name came easily to him, having used the man as material to jerk off to the night after having met him. Whizzer lifted his gaze to his wide-eyed, flustered expression in disbelief. Never had he once seen the other man around the college—either he had recently transferred, explaining his unfamiliarity with the lay-out of the school, or Whizzer was merely oblivious, and Marvin was an idiot. Somehow he doubted the latter. Not the fact that Marvin was an idiot—that at least was true—but because Marvin’s face wasn’t one he would easily glaze over, or forget. He definitely hadn’t forgotten the man’s broad chest and swollen biceps since the night at the bar, either.  
  
The professor raised a hand, overloaded with information, indicating his excuse was adequate before telling him to take a seat. Marvin let out a breath in relief and gave a small smile, moving to sit at the opposite end of the room as the professor resumed his lecture.  
  
After a few minutes, Whizzer felt his eyes drift to Marvin’s form, taking advantage of the fact he was facing away. He absently admired the muscular planes of his back, his globed shoulders, and the soft slope of his spine to his hips.  
  
Oblivious to Whizzer eyeing him from behind, Marvin proceeded to scribble notes furiously into a leather-bound book, causing him to internally scoff. _Leather-bound_. The pretentious fuck. On top of that, what he was writing Whizzer couldn’t fathom—as far as he knew, the professor had been reiterating the same self-explanatory point for the better part of a quarter of an hour.  
  
“Moving away from Romanticism, I’d like to talk about poetry in a wider sense. Take a few moments to reflect upon the significance of poetry, itself, in terms of Literature,” the professor ordered, causing Whizzer to groan at the prospect of poetry discussions; thinking and writing about it was torturous enough. All he wanted to do was show up to the damn class, pass, and graduate. Was that really too much to ask?  
  
Before he knew it, Marvin’s hand shot up. “I think poetry is the most romantic form of self-expression there is. What someone is truly feeling can be said in code, rather than said explicitly. There’s no vulgarity or crudeness. ” And, _fuck,_ if Whizzer didn’t want to slap the back of his head at that. What was wrong with vulgarity and crudeness? At least it got things _done._  
  
The professor, however, was overjoyed by the prospect that somebody was actually willing to intellectually engage in his discussion. “Couldn’t agree more... Mr. Meselson, was it?” The bastard had the nerve to nod smugly, smirking and looking far too self-satisfied for someone so far up his own ass.  
  
Whizzer rolled his eyes, his interest in the class suddenly piquing. “Poetry is bullshit,” he retorted, feeling all of his classmates’ eyes draw to him. He could pinpoint the exact moment Marvin recognised his voice. His entire body tensed and he stilled, before swivelling around in his chair in shock, eyes narrowed.  
  
The professor raised his eyebrows at the profanity, but allowed the interjection. “Care to expand, Mr…?”  
  
“Brown. Whizzer Brown,” he drawled suavely—as if he were _James fucking Bond_ or some shit.  
  
“Continue, Mr Brown.”  
  
“It’s _bullshit_ because it’s written by people who pussyfoot around the point. They pad it out with all this _flowery language_ and these _obscure metaphors_ and try to make it sound _profound_. Half the time all they want to do is fuck, too. I’d hardly call that _the most romantic form of self-expression,_ ” he mocked, feeling a well of satisfaction from the way Marvin’s face reddened as a wave of snickers arose from the class. The professor had no time to cut in before Marvin had regained his composure, gearing up for a fight.  
  
“What an intellectual. Oh, do go on, Whizzer,” Marvin deadpanned. “Any more pearls of wisdom for us? Just because you don’t understand high culture doesn’t mean everyone else has to be lowered to your level.” Marvin smiled sweetly at him.  
  
Whizzer scoffed, “Oh, please, they use it to be pretentious. No one uses that shit in real life anyway, because in case you haven’t noticed, it’s weird as _fuck_ to compare a woman to _a blossoming rosebud_ or whatever it is you jerk off to before bed. It’s all just an extravagant way to boost their egos.”

The professor coughed meekly, attempting to put an end to their tiff. Evidently, the confident and theatrical facade he’d demonstrated at the beginning of the lesson had been just that: a facade. He was all bark and no bite. It was no wonder, therefore, that both men ignored him.

Marvin argued incredulously, “like you need to be an intellectual to have an inflated ego. Take a look at yours!”

  
“Yeah, you know what? You are absolutely right,” Whizzer smiled, “but at least I can _admit_ it. Some people live their whole lives in _denial_ about who they really are,” he glared at Marvin. Marvin’s face hardened and his jaw set.  
  
Finally, the professor intervened, steering the conversation nervously back to the topic at hand. Marvin swivelled back to face the front of the class, the tension in his back having dramatically increased in Whizzer's presence. After a moment, Trina began to tug on his sleeve. Whizzer recoiled at her insistent touch.  
  
“Hey, watch the shirt, lady, this cost more than this month’s rent.”  
  
“What was that all about?” Trina asked, bewildered.  
  
“It was nothing. Met the guy at the bar the other day. Complete asshole,” Whizzer dismissed.  
  
“He is,” Trina agreed. After a pause, she added, “he’s my boyfriend.”  
  
Whizzer almost choked. _This_ was Marvin’s girlfriend? This was who Marvin had been having vanilla, boring-as-shit sex with? He balked at the thought. She sure as hell seemed the type, with her emotional range being non-existent and her outfit being of an equal standard to that of her boyfriend’s. Talk about a _coincidence._  
  
There was very little he could do by means of explaining why his reluctance attending the class drastically diminished in that moment.


	3. When He Pushes, I Pull

There was something irresistible about arguing with Marvin.  
  
He didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it came down to the push and pull between them, the thrill of causing that vein in Marvin’s neck to protrude, the way he raised his voice, his energy raw and unbridled, the need to push every last one of the other man’s buttons. Whatever _it_ was, it was nothing short of an addiction.  
  
There always seemed to be something to fight about, too. And, ironically enough, it so rarely seemed to revolve around poetry.  
  
“You’re in my seat.” Marvin gave him a bored look as he approached his desk. On principle, Whizzer would deny arriving early for the sole purpose of commandeering the other man’s desk. That would have been _petty_. And petty was certainly something Whizzer wasn’t.  
  
“We don’t have assigned seats, dickwad,” Whizzer rolled his eyes. And, sure, _technically_ that was true. But the class had a terrible aversion to switching seats, having remained in the same places for the better part of a month—meaning, of course, that _he_ had the _special_ privilege of sitting beside Bunny Doyne every lesson for weeks on end, enduring her extremely _loud_ gum-chewing and the artificial light of her phone flashing from her desk, presenting the countless text arguments she engaged in with her boyfriend for anybody less than three seats away.  
  
Marvin gave him a patronising smile, placing his hands on the surface of his desk and leaning forward. “Oh, didn’t anyone tell you? There’s an unspoken rule. In case you haven’t noticed, nobody’s moved seats this entire semester.”  
  
A flare of annoyance arose at the other man’s superior tone. Sometimes he really questioned if Marvin was real. It didn’t seem possible that a _mere mortal_ could be host to the sheer volume of condescension he seemed to carry on his tongue at all times.  
  
“Didn’t anyone tell _you_ rules were made to be broken?” Whizzer challenged. Moving seats was really the most insignificant of things, he wasn’t delusional; the thought of submitting to _Marvin_ , however, would be more or less equivalent to selling his soul. Marvin clenched his jaw.  
  
_“Whizzer.”_

 _"Marvin,”_ he mocked.  
  
“Don’t make this harder than it is,” he snapped, levelling the other man with a glare, evidently as opposed to relenting to Whizzer as he was.  
  
“Oh, it’s already hard. It’s really, _really_ hard,” Whizzer taunted, lowering his voice. The only evidence Marvin had been affected by his words was the way one of his eyelids twitched, his throat almost undetectably constricting as he swallowed. Through countless arguments, he’d come to learn the nuances of Marvin’s reactions over time; so, what may _appear_ to an onlooker to be an undoubtedly collected and composed response, to _Whizzer,_ Marvin’s expression was more or less equivalent to a car crash and a house alight all rolled into one. Whizzer couldn’t help but marvel at the other man, at how Marvin clearly lacked experiences Whizzer was well-versed in, meaning Whizzer could almost _always_ managed to surprise him. He enjoyed it. It satisfied Whizzer to be unpredictable. He never did well with _patterns_.  
  
“Stop being a child, Whizzer,” Marvin growled, rousing him from his thoughts.  
  
“Why don’t you come over here and make me?” He leant back in his chair, raising an eyebrow and widening his legs almost imperceptibly. Marvin’s lips parted as his gaze was instinctively drawn to the slight shift.  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, Trina was by his side, chirping, “what are we talking about?”  
  
In that instant, Marvin’s expression shut, before gruffly taking Trina by the arm and leading her away. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”  
  
Whizzer counted that as a victory.  
  
* * *  
  
The next time he saw Marvin, Trina elected to sit beside her boyfriend, rendering their former squabble redundant.  
  
The pair walked in hand in hand, Trina with a deeply contented expression on her face, and Marvin with one of complete apathy, taking their seats directly in front of him. Sure, he really wasn’t going on much in his suspicion of the man’s sexual preferences. And yeah, _technically_ , it really was none of his business. But something sick inside Whizzer relished in the knowledge he was privy to a part of Marvin no one else was aware of. It thrilled him. He had no concrete evidence of Marvin’s lack of attraction to his girlfriend, but he knew. No heterosexual reason could excuse away the flicker of interest whenever he thought Whizzer wasn’t paying attention, or the way his gaze lingered when it really shouldn’t.  
  
“God, I hate Shakespeare,” a man with a beaded necklace and a _cardigan_ of all things moaned, slumping into the seat beside him.  
  
“And you’re telling me this because…?” Whizzer questioned, bemused by the conversation starter.  
  
“Take a look at the board, buddy. 40% of the syllabus is Shakespeare. Ugh, I’d rather set myself on fire,” he bemoaned dramatically. Finally, _somebody_ on his level.  
  
“Fucking tell me about it, Shakespeare’s the worst. The man’s so hard to understand he may as well be speaking a different language,” Whizzer grinned.  
  
“Dude, I know! And everyone's always kissing the guy's ass—and for what? For writing _another_ tragedy where everybody dies?" The man laughed. “You’re Whizzer, right? Mendel Weisenbachfeld,” he introduced himself, electing not to shake hands like Trina had.  
  
Whizzer surprised himself with a laugh, “woah—Jewish, much?”  
  
Mendel chuckled, “guilty,” raising his hands in surrender. “You religious?”  
  
“Half-Jewish,” Whizzer admitted, eliciting another laugh from the man. The sound aroused Trina’s attention, causing her to turn hastily in her seat.  
  
“Mendel, hey!” She beamed at him. “Haven’t seen you around lately, how’ve you been?”  
  
And Mendel could not have been more obviously head over heels if he _tried_. A flush crept up his neck and his eyes lit up at her sudden attention, a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, hey, Trina, hi,” he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, “it’s all been good here, what’s been up with you?”  
  
“Oh gosh, nothing much, just been missing my favourite psychology major!” She slapped his knee in admonishment. “Where have you been hiding?”  
  
“You missed me?” A bashful smile crept upon his face, testing Whizzer’s self-control in his effort to refrain from face-palming. God, if _that’s_ what qualified as successful flirting—and it _was_ , judging by Trina’s flushed cheeks—then fuck him sideways.  
  
The two continued to flirt, unashamedly blatant in the presence of Trina’s boyfriend. His best guess was that Marvin was either oblivious, or so secure in his relationship with Trina he didn’t doubt her fidelity for a second. Both sounded plausible.  
  
Stuck with nothing to do, Whizzer reached forward and tugged a lock of Marvin’s hair.  
  
Engrossed in his notes, Marvin startled at the sudden contact. He swivelled in his seat, his face dropping when he realised exactly who had interrupted his precious note-taking. “Don’t you have something better to do with your time than to harass me?”  
  
Whizzer pouted. “I’m bored,” he whined, “we’re so early and the only two other people in the general vicinity are flirting with one other.” His point was further reinforced by how thoroughly they were engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to anybody else in the room. He gave Marvin a pointed look.  
  
Marvin huffed. “They are not _flirting_ with each other. They’re friends, Whizzer. Y’know, that relationship status that _doesn’t_ involve sex?  
  
“What’s the point in platonic relationships when sex is so much _fun?”_ He teased.  
  
Marvin scoffed at his words. “Literally hundreds of reasons. Literally. Hundreds.”  
  
Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Name five.”  
  
Marvin held up a hand, counting on his fingers as he listed off each reason. “Um, for one, they could be related to you; two, either one of you is asexual; three, you’re not attracted to one another; four, you don’t want to complicate your relationship; five, contrary, to what you think, not _everything_ is about sex.” Marvin gave him an exasperated look. “There. Satisfied?"  
  
“Oh, I do love it when you talk dirty to me, Marv,” he grinned.  
  
Marvin rolled his eyes but his face had lost its harsh edge, a smile pulling at his lips. “You’re incorrigible. And it’s Marv _in.”_  
  
“Why do you feel the need to remind me of your unsatisfied, middle-aged father name?” Whizzer pouted.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, _Whiz,_ why don’t you ask my parents why they decided to call a _baby_ an unsatisfied, middle-aged father name?”  
  
“Oh, parent-talk, now you’re really getting me going."  
  
Marvin pinched his sinuses dramatically. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to give me a migraine.”  
  
“At least then we’ll be even from all the headaches you’ve given me,” Whizzer smiled sweetly.  
  
“Look at you two getting along!” Trina beamed at them, oblivious to the obvious tension in the room, and causing Mendel to slump into his seat at the lack of attention. “Y’know, the four of us should go out some time—this is a nice little group we have.”  
  
Both Marvin and Whizzer's protests were shortly drowned out by Mendel’s hasty “we’d love to!”  
  
Whizzer gave a tight laugh. “Uh, Trina, I don’t know if that would be such a good idea.”  
  
“Nonsense!” Trina waved him off. “When's good for everyone? Friday evening?”  
  
“Sounds great to me,” came Mendel’s swift reply. "Dinner at seven?”  
  
“It’s a date,” Trina clapped her hands together in satisfaction.  
  
Whizzer let his head fall to the desk.  
  
* * *  
  
On Friday morning, Whizzer made sure to wear the tightest pair of pants he owned—for no particular reason, other than to screw with Marvin, of course.  
  
Walking into the class, he made certain to pass by Marvin’s desk on the way to his seat, swaying his hips for added emphasis and resolutely keeping a straight face through the whole act. Marvin being Marvin, was, _of course,_ bloviating about some political injustice or another, gesticulating wildly at Mendel, who appeared overwhelmed by the man’s passion. The moment his gaze landed on Whizzer, his eyes widened almost comically and his mouth dropped open. As Whizzer continued to walk past, Marvin grabbed his arm, standing halfway at his desk.  
  
“What are you _wearing?”_ He gaped, his grip tight on the other man’s bicep.  
  
Whizzer gave his sweetest smile. “Whatever do you mean, Marvin?”  
  
“Those are _obscene_.”  
  
And, in all honesty, they _were._ Tailored and black, the pants fit against his body like a second skin, accentuating his best assets. Whizzer preened at Marvin’s admiring gaze trailing a hot line along the muscular build of his thighs and the swell of his ass.  
  
“I’m sure whoever I decide to fuck tonight after our little _soiree_ won’t mind."  
  
Marvin’s entire demeanour shifted. “You’re wearing them to get laid? Jesus, Whizzer, have some self-respect.”  
  
Whizzer felt himself flush at his words. “Why do _you_ care about my self-respect?”  
  
“I don’t,” Marvin snapped. “It’s just embarrassing. What, you’re just going to open up your legs and let some desperate guy fuck you in the alleyway?” He demanded.  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe I will,” Whizzer glared.  
  
Marvin let go of his arm, his face remaining carefully blank. “Well, don’t bring anything contagious to class next week, is all I’m saying."  
  
Whizzer took a step forward. “Careful, Marv. Green’s not a good look on you.” He stepped back, turning away. “See you tonight, honey,” he called over his shoulder, imitating the term of endearment he’d so often heard him be referred to by Trina.  
  
Tonight was going to be a _long_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some not so subtle something rotten references for you! (now that was a lilting line of lyrical alliteration)


	4. He’s Nice but Indiscreet

“Oh, you shouldn’t have gotten dressed up for _me_ , Marv,” Whizzer rolled his eyes as Marvin slid into the booth across from him. “Sweatpants, seriously?” ****  
** **

“It’s dry-cleaning day, asshole,” Marvin retorted. Despite his casual appearance, _hot damn_ , those _arms_. “I’m hungry as fuck, let’s eat.” ****  
** **

Trina slid her arm across his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back. “Oh, honey,” she cooed, “we’ve ordered sharing plates for the whole table, is that okay?” ****  
** **

Marvin merely grunted in response to her coddling. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine.” ****  
** **

Whizzer observed the hand that fell from his back and the way her smile dropped at his cold response. And the worst thing was Marvin didn’t even seem to _notice._ Jesus, what an asshole. ****  
** **

“Well, _I,_ for one, need a drink,” Cordelia interjected, seating herself beside Whizzer. “Hi, I’m Cordelia, by the way,” she introduced herself to the group with a smile. And, well, Whizzer couldn’t _not_ have invited her. She’d have just been sat at home, doodling hearts around _Mrs Cordelia Baker_ if he hadn’t—okay, he may have been slightly exaggerating, but she did have it _bad_. ** **  
****

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Trina grinned, teasing, “Whizzer never shuts up about you in class.” ****  
** **

“Okay, I do _too,”_ Whizzer scoffed. ****  
** **

“No, actually, I can vouch for that,” Marvin pitched in. “He really, _really_ doesn’t.” ****  
** **

_“Oh, do you know Cordelia, my chef roommate? Cordelia, my home away from home? Cordelia, my one and only true love and the only person who will ever truly understand me and love me and accept me for me? That Cordelia?”_ Mendel imitated mockingly, his cheeks flushing when Trina giggled at the joke. ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, those words have _never_ come out of my mouth, now you guys are just being assholes.” ****  
** **

Cordelia laughed, wrapping her arms around him from the side. “Whizzer, honey, I’m _flattered—_ really—but I only have eyes for one woman.” She sighed as if it physically pained her to have to deliver the bad news. “And as much as you’ll always be my husband—well, she’s my wife—and I have to honour that commitment.” ****  
** **

_“Ooh,_ you have a girlfriend?” Trina smiled conspiratorially, leaning forward. “What’s her name?” ****  
** **

Whizzer fixed Trina with a scathing look, wondering _why_ she had to ask that, of all things.  ****  
** **

As expected, Cordelia lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. “Well, I mean, she’s not officially my _girlfriend,_ but you know, we’re—we’re getting there,” she winked, betraying how touchy the subject of her and Charlotte’s non-relationship truly was. “Charlotte Baker, do you know her?” ****  
** **

“Oh, I love Charlotte!” Trina squealed excitedly, causing Marvin to wince. “She’s such a catch, too!” ****  
** **

“Trust me, I know,” Cordelia responded boastfully. “My girl’s going to be a _doctor.”_

Fortunately, the waiter arrived at that moment, cutting off her rant prematurely. They thanked the guy as he placed their meals on the table, much to Marvin’s extreme delight, and simply hovered by their table for a moment. Glancing up, Whizzer noted the guy indiscreetly checking him out—and while he wasn’t _bad_ looking, by any means, there was something about sitting opposite Marvin, who was wearing the most _ridiculously_ gleeful expression in response to something as simple as the arrival of his food, that caused the idea of _acting_ on said attention to leave a sour taste in his mouth.  ****  
** **

He could see Cordelia holding back a laugh at how embarrassingly obvious the guy was being, his eyes strictly locked on Whizzer as he addressed the entire table. “Let me know if you guys need anything else. Seriously,” he placed a hand on the booth behind Whizzer’s head, _“anything.”_ There was another pregnant pause before he quietly tagged on the end, in what Whizzer had to assume was taking a stab at _casual,_ “I get off at ten. I’ll be at the bar,” before slinking away without another word. ****  
** **

“I think he liked you, Whizzer,” Trina giggled from across the table. Whizzer noticed how Marvin had his head down, resolutely keeping his gaze on his food as he practically _inhaled_ the plate of mini-burgers before him.  ****  
** **

“No kidding,” he responded absently. Marvin’s eyes flickered up at his dismissal, and he _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the slight smile that tugged at his lips. ****  
** **

Whizzer couldn’t help but grin at the pure fervour with which Marvin went about devouring his food. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Keep eating like that and you’re really going to start living up to that dad aesthetic,” he smirked as Marvin devoured his third. ****  
** **

“ _Please_ , with this metabolism?” He scoffed cockily, half of his food still in his mouth, causing Whizzer to pull a face. “See this?” He patted his stomach. “Rock hard.” ****  
** **

Before Whizzer could reply, Trina placed her hands on Marvin’s chest, scraping slightly with her nails. “I can vouch for that,” she grinned cheekily, tilting her face upwards for a kiss. For some inexplicable reason, Marvin’s eyes flickered to Whizzer’s before pecking his girlfriend on the lips. ****  
** **

Across the table, Whizzer saw Mendel’s face drop as he watched the pair. Whizzer felt for the guy, he really did. For sure, Mendel was a better man than Marvin was. And he probably had stronger feelings for Trina, too, judging by the disinterest in Marvin's expression as he pulled away from the kiss. ****  
** **

“Cordelia, you were saying?” Mendel blurted bitterly, desperate for any means of distraction. He expanded at her confused expression. “Earlier? About Charlotte?” ****  
** **

“Oh,” she chewed over a mouthful of food, quickly swallowing before continuing. “Well, that was really all I was going to say,” she paused in thought before her eyes lit up. Whizzer swore he could literally _see_ the lightbulb form above her head. “You want to hear how we met?” ****  
** **

_“No,”_ Whizzer groaned, earning an elbow to his side. ****  
** **

“This is actually a pretty funny story,” she began, enthused. “So, we’re in the Chemistry lab, right, and this girl walks in, and I’m literally like _fuck,_ she’s incredible. She’s got this beautiful dark skin and this amazing hair, and I’m like _I_ need _to meet this girl._ Only catch is—I’m partnered with Whizzer and she’s partnered with no one. So, this guy,” she nudged him, “noticing my interest and being the _wonderful_ person that he is—” ****  
** **

Marvin scoffed. “Wonderful person, my _ass—”_ ****  
** **

Whizzer kicked Marvin under the table, smiling as he grunted in pain.  ****  
** **

“—decides, you know what? He’s going to make this happen. So, he _literally_ starts shovelling in loads of dangerous shit—chemicals I’ve never even _heard_ of—into this test tube, sets his sleeve _on fire,_ and ends up being temporarily _blinded._ Long story short, he gets sent to the medics, and I’ve been partnered with Charlotte ever since,” she concluded, grinning. ** **  
****

“Okay, that takes being a wingman to a _whole_ new level,” Mendel chuckled. ****  
** **

“I didn’t _mean_ to blind myself and make a fire,” he rolled his eyes when he suddenly felt Marvin’s foot come to comfortably press against his. Neither moved their foot away. ****  
** **

“I didn’t know you took Chemistry,” Marvin said, staring at him from across the table. ****  
** **

Whizzer didn’t know _why_ but the fact that Marvin was addressing him personally, their feet touching underneath the table as he asked about an insignificant detail in the story about _him_ , felt really fucking intimate for some reason. “I mean, I don’t _really,”_ he shrugged, skin irrationally prickling with the attention. “I never show up anymore since I got screwed at by Mr. Feinstein about the whole ordeal.” ****  
** **

“That and the fact he caught you having sex in his supply closet last year and you were so shocked you knocked over a solution of hydrofluoric acid and burnt through a stack of his paperwork,” Cordelia giggled. ****  
** **

Whizzer jerked his head to glare at her, hissing, “I told you that in _confidence.”_ ****  
** **

“Jesus Christ, who knew Whizzer Brown was such a danger to society?” Trina giggled.  ****  
** **

“Oh, all those one night stands are _definitely_ in danger of this heartbreaker here,” Cordelia remarked emphatically. The way Marvin’s smile fell slightly didn't go unnoticed. “You guys should’ve seen what he and some guy he took home did to the apartment the other day!” ****  
** **

“Whizzer!” Trina swatted his arm, mock scandalised. ****  
** **

“Don’t be bitter that I’m having hot sex and you’re not,” Whizzer chuckled to Cordelia, who stuck her tongue out childishly. ****  
** **

“Who gives a shit who Whizzer screws?” Marvin grumbled, irritated at the course of conversation. ****  
** **

“ _I_ do, I need to vicariously live through _someone’s_ sex life,” Mendel complained. ****  
** **

“Oh, Mendel, honey, I _feel_ that,” Cordelia emphasised, placing a hand on his arm sympathetically. “That’s why I keep Whizzer around.” ****  
** **

“Oh, it’s _all_ coming out tonight, isn’t it,” Whizzer grumbled. ****  
** **

Cordelia wrapped her thin arms around him, nuzzling her face into his arm. “You know what a delight you are.” ****  
** **

“Ha!” Marvin laughed humourlessly. “Where are those fucking drinks?” ****  
** **

“This _delight_ here needs a drink, too,” Whizzer agreed, calling over a waitress and ordering five double shots without conferring with the others. Fuck it, they were young and he was actually not having too terrible of a time.  ****  
** **

“What happened to never drinking again in this _lifetime?”_ Cordelia raised an eyebrow, giggling. ****  
** **

“Don’t you know never to listen to me, ‘Delia?” Whizzer grinned as they all accepted a shot glass from the waitress. ****  
** **

_“_ _Finally,_ we agree on something,” Marvin smiled sardonically to which Whizzer narrowed his eyes and flipped him off. ****  
** **

“Bottom’s up,” Cordelia toasted, as they each clinked their glasses and downed the shot. ****  
** **

*** * *** ****  
** **

Three hours and a dozen shots later, Marvin and Whizzer were in a heated debate about which way was the correct way to slice bread. ****  
** **

“It is _clearly_ horizontally, I can’t believe we’re even discussing this!” Whizzer cried, scandalised. ****  
** **

“Diagonally is the only way anyone should be cutting their bread!” Marvin argued, cheeks flushed. “It makes _so_ much more sense. Imagine this—” he began. ****  
** **

“Oh my God, you guys,” Mendel whined, “can you ever _not_ argue?” ****  
** **

“—imagine this”, he tried again, “you’ve just made a three-tiered sandwich. How— _how_ , I ask you—are you going to eat it without things getting messy?”   ****  
** **

“I mean, I’ve never minded getting _messy_ ,” Whizzer leered. Trina blurted a laugh, too drunk to realise the implications of what Whizzer was saying. ****  
** **

“That’s _right_ , Whizzer,” Marvin ignored him, enthusiastically continuing, “you begin at the pointed edge, where you can fit it in your mouth.” ****  
** **

“Oh, do you struggle to fit it all in your mouth, big boy?” Whizzer raised an eyebrow, grinning.

Marvin gave him a short look, drunk enough that he wasn’t taken aback by Whizzer’s gall. Cordelia shrieked at the line, grabbing Whizzer by the arm and dragging him from the booth. ****  
** **

“Where’re you going?” Marvin slurred slightly, wide eyed. His eyes immediately fell to Whizzer’s ass; after all, he was still wearing _those_ pants. ****  
** **

“I need another drink, I am not nearly as drunk as the two of you are,” Cordelia rolled her eyes amusedly and Whizzer allowed himself to be tugged away. ****  
** **

“Get us one, too!” Mendel called on behalf of he and Trina. ****  
** **

They reached the bar and Cordelia turned to face him. “Christ, Whizzer, you said you get horny when you’re drunk but _fucking hell_.” ****  
** **

“I’m not _that_ bad,” he scoffed, ordering drinks for the others. ****  
** **

“You’ve been ogling his arms for the past fifteen minutes,” she gave him a look, “just be careful, okay? His girlfriend is _right there_.” ****  
** **

But Whizzer was no longer listening. Because, behind Cordelia, was the handsome waiter from earlier, sitting at the bar and looking even _more_ attractive than before. He was admittedly gruffer than Whizzer’s usual type, stockier than average and not cleanly shaven like he tended to go for, but—he reminded himself—variety _was_ the spice of life, and he _was_ undoubtedly gorgeous. The man tilted his head upward with a coy smirk, beckoning him over. ****  
** **

“Sure, sure. You go ahead back to the booth, I’ll be over in a minute,” he muttered, still making eye contact with the man. ****  
** **

Cordelia followed Whizzer’s line of sight and rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Just—go back to his, at least. I want to actually _sleep_ tonight.” He nodded and with that, she made her way back to the others. ****  
** **

Whizzer approached the man demurely, sliding into the seat beside him. “What’re you drinking?” ****  
** **

“Wanna taste?” The man smirked, pushing his glass towards him. ****  
** **

Whizzer lowered his neck so he could sip on the straw, all the while keeping eye contact with the man. ****  
** **

“Aren’t you something,” he licked his lips slowly, a hand coming to rest on Whizzer’s thigh. ****  
** **

He preened at the attention. “My friends tell me I’m a delight,” he replied impulsively. ****  
** **

“Your friends? Over there?” The man asked. Whizzer followed his line of sight to see Trina still cuddling up to her boyfriend, and Mendel and Cordelia giggling about something. Probably their pitiful love lives. ****  
** **

Marvin, however, was boring holes into the side of his face. Whizzer met his gaze, giving him a bemused look, to which Marvin narrowed his eyes, looking pointedly between him and the man’s hand on his thigh. ****  
** **

“Why does that guy look like he has a stick wedged up his ass?” The man laughed and Whizzer, in his inebriated state, recoiled at his tone. ****  
** **

“He’s just being protective.” ****  
** **

“Maybe the dick needs to fucking relax,” he retorted. ****  
** **

“Maybe _you_ need to fucking relax,” Whizzer glared, any interest he had felt towards the man diminishing as he got up off his chair. The man slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. ****  
** **

“Oh, don’t be wound so tight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his breath reeking of whiskey so close. ****  
** **

“Get off of me,” Whizzer demanded, too tipsy to have the strength to push him away. ****  
** **

“Don’t be like that.” His grip tightened, constrictive around his waist. ****  
** **

“I swear to God—” ****  
** **

“C’mon, Whizzer, baby, let’s go,” a voice boomed, easily removing the man’s arms from his body, twisting them effortlessly and causing the man to let out a squeak of pain. The man jerked back, outraged. Marvin wound a strong arm around Whizzer’s waist, pulling him close to his side. ****  
** **

“You have a fucking _boyfriend_ and you’re flirting with another guy? You two deserve each other,” he snapped, walking away. After he had left, Whizzer slipped out of Marvin’s grip and glared at him. ****  
** **

“I didn’t need your help,” Whizzer emphasised, the fact he was slurring his words slightly not helping his case. He crossed his arms across his body. “I could’ve gotten out of that myself.” ****  
** **

“Sure you could’ve,” Marvin rolled his eyes. “Just thank me and get it over with.” ****  
** **

“Maybe _you_ should be thanking _me_ that I wasn’t into it,” Whizzer retorted. “You seemed pretty uncomfortable with the thought of him being the lucky guy who gets to _fuck me in the alleyway_ , as you so eloquently put it.” ****  
** **

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marvin narrowed his eyes. “Didn't you hear me earlier? I don't _care_ who you screw." ****  
** **

“And what the fuck was that? _Whizzer, baby?”_ He mimicked questioningly. ****  
** **

“It was the easiest way to get him to leave you alone," Marvin defended himself. ****  
** **

Whizzer snorted derisively, looking away. “Right. Sure.” He glanced over at the booth, realising the others were shielded from sight. ****  
** **

Marvin wrapped his hands around his shoulders to regain his attention and Whizzer snapped his eyes back to Marvin’s. “Honestly, Whizzer, if you keep giving it away like free candy, you’re going to get hurt, emotionally or physically. Or both.” ****  
** **

“Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a fucking child, Marvin,” he snapped. ****  
** **

“I’m _not_ ,” Marvin stressed, narrowing his eyes, “Jesus, is it too much to ask that you maybe have any kind of standard at all?" ****  
** **

“Well, I want _you_ to fuck me, what do you think _that_ says about my standards?” Whizzer glared, not realising completely what he’d said. The effect his words had on Marvin was instantaneous, the insinuation causing his eyes to darken and his hands to fall to Whizzer's hips, alcohol having loosened both his tongue and his hands. Whizzer couldn't stop himself from continuing, the power he currently held over the other man going straight to his head. And his dick. “I want you to fuck me _hard_ , Marvin." ****  
** **

Marvin sucked in a breath. “You make me so hot,” he mumbled, tugging Whizzer by the hips closer to him and thumbing at the sliver of skin between Whizzer’s shirt and pants with a dazed look in his eyes. Whizzer’s breath hitched at the contact. ****  
** **

“Whizzer, what happened with that guy back there?” Cordelia’s voice made the pair jump apart as if they’d been shocked by a live wire. ****  
** **

“Was a fucking creep,” Whizzer muttered. ****  
** **

“You can say that again,” Marvin breathed. ****  
** **

“Ew,” Cordelia made a face, eyeing the pair suspiciously. “Well, are you ready to go? I’ve got an early lecture tomorrow.” ****  
** **

“Yeah, actually,” Whizzer replied, “let’s get out of here.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer—” Marvin began. ****  
** **

“I’ll see you in class, Marvin,” Whizzer replied coolly. “Tell Mendel and Trina we had to go,” he added, despite the strong likelihood that the pair wouldn’t notice, too absorbed in each other’s presence. ****  
** **

Whizzer made his way to the exit, his hips burning where Marvin's thumbs had pressed into them.  


	5. What A Joy’s Monogamy

“Jesus, I thought you said you could _drive_ ,” Cordelia braced herself as the car swerved for the umpteenth time.

“I can,” Whizzer snapped. “It’s all these fucking morons on the road who think they can—hey, pal, do you wanna watch the fucking road?” He gesticulated wildly, taking one hand off the steering wheel and glaring at the offending driver.

Whizzer Brown—of _all_ the drivers in New York City—should _not_ have owned a car. He'd been given it by his parents at the end of his senior year in high school as a you’re-our-gay-son-that-we-want-out-of-the-house-as-soon-as-possible-so-we’re-going-to-give-you-this-shitty-rundown-car-as-a-going-away-and-hopefully-never-coming-back-present. And as if the car wasn't a piece of work in itself, being driven by someone who very much lacked patience and a tolerance for _anybody_ else on the road only served as another reason for other habitants of the city to stick to public transport at all costs. Whizzer, himself, thanked God everyday that he could avoid the unclean seats and the delays and the overwhelming heat of the _subway._ He grimaced at the thought. The Whizzer Browns of the world were not _made_ for the subway. The Whizzer Browns of the world were made for private chauffeurs and plush leather seats and _air conditioning._

“Both hands on the wheel, sweetie,” Cordelia urged, giving an anxious smile. “Remind me never to get in this _death trap_ again.”

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic,” Whizzer rolled his eyes. “ _I_ am a good driver. I just wish everyone else was, too.”

“Whatever you say, Whizzer,” she responded sarcastically, “just know that if I die in this car, I am going to _haunt_ your ass.”

“Even in the afterlife, you’re _still_ obsessed with me?” Whizzer batted his eyes at Cordelia, mock flattered, and taking his eyes off of the road for _far_ too long for her comfort. “Just promise we’ll mould clay together on a pottery wheel as you hold me in your arms?”

“You told me you were done with that movie,” she complained, after having walked into their apartment to find her best friend watching _Ghost_ only in his boxers and the entire menu of Taco Bell one too many times.

“What can I say, Swayze has a hold over me no other man ever has,” Whizzer sighed dreamily.

“Thank _God_ we’re getting dinner,” she groaned, placing a palm on her stomach. “I’m _starved_.”

“And why is that?” He gave her a _look._

“Because I ate the contents of the fridge in my Ally McBeal binge and now all we have is a tub of cream cheese and a jar of mild salsa,” she replied petulantly.

“ _Exactly_.”

They pulled into the moderately-priced Japanese restaurant, almost destroying the entrance sign, much to Cordelia’s horror. Twenty minutes later and they were _deep_ in miso soup, sushi rolls and shrimp tempura.

Whizzer let out an obscene moan. “This… This is…”

“A goddamn _spiritual_ experience.”

“I’d never considered being a single father in college but this… This is my baby.”

Cordelia wholeheartedly agreed. “I thought I was only attracted to women but I’m being proven wrong every bite.”

Chopsticks poised in front of his mouth and about to take another bite, Whizzer was halted in his actions at the sight of a very familiar couple.

“Oh shit, ‘Delia, look. Marv and Trina on date night,” he remarked, although something uncomfortable twisted in his stomach at the sight of the two. Marvin had a grin lighting up his entire face, so different to how he’d _ever_ seen the man interact with Trina before. He was avidly listening to his girlfriend tell a story, eyes wide and attentive.

Whizzer felt unable to look away. It was so foreign to see Marvin so absorbed in the presence of a human being that was not _himself._ The thought was surprisingly not a pleasant one.

Cordelia sighed, drawing his attention back to his best friend. “Don’t you want something like that? Look how he’s hanging on her every word.”

A sick feeling settled in the bottom of Whizzer’s gut at her words. He laughed humourlessly. “Please, _me?_ Why would I settle for _one_ when I can have _hundreds_ of handsome men at my beck and call?”

But that wasn’t necessarily the truth. Because, the thing was—deep, _deep_ down—he _did_ want something like that. He wanted someone to look at him like that, like he’d hung the moon and every one of the planets orbited around him.

”Okay, sweetie, I’m going to pretend I believe you for your pride’s sake.” Cordelia gave him a placating smile. Whizzer scoffed and dismissed her.

“Not all of us want to be married off before we’ve even graduated.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” she grinned, taking another sip of her miso soup. He rolled his eyes.

“‘Delia, have you forgotten what happened the first time I met him?” Whizzer waved his chopsticks in the air as he talked. “Uh, newsflash—he was flirting with another _man_. I told you I thought we were going to _fuck._ _Clearly_ , he’s not all that devoted to her. Or the female population in general.”

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. People have glitches like that all the time—some unexplainable night out of thousands where they forget what they want,” she shrugged, surprisingly blasé about the subject. “Hell, some nights I think I’m into men. But I’d have had at least half a dozen shots, and in the morning, I remember my fascination with breasts,” she reasoned. “Sexual preference is a very fluid thing, Whizzer.”

“You’re shitting me.” He gave her a short look. “You _get off_ on commitment and fidelity, and _you’re_ condoning cheating?”

“I mean, it’s not really _cheating_ ,” she emphasised. “Everyone partakes in a little harmless flirting every once in a while. As long as there’s no end goal in mind and it boosts your self-esteem, what’s the problem?”

“Oh, yeah?” He gave her a disbelieving look. “You’re saying if _Charlotte_ was partaking in _a little harmless flirting_ with a girl in your Chemistry class, you’d be completely _fine_ with it?” He raised a challenging eyebrow.

“That’s different.”

“It is _literally_ the exact same scenario,” he deadpanned.

“It’s _different_ because Marvin’s a _guy._ Not to generalise here, Whizzer, but men have no fucking clue what they want,” she said emphatically. “The slightest opportunity they can get their dicks wet, and they’ll get it up faster than they can realise which gender they’re getting it up for.”

“So you’re saying Marvin didn’t _realise_ I was male, and _that’s_ why he was flirting with me?” He gave her an incredulous look. “Not for nothing, ‘Delia, but that’s the shittiest logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, well when you say it like that,” she snorted. “I just mean men’s dicks think faster than their brains, and that successful monogamy relies on things like harmless flirting not being the be all or end all.”

“Look, just admit it. Monogamy is a sham, and anyone who fools themselves otherwise is deluded. _No one_ is faithful, _everyone_ gets bored, the sex stops, the resentment kicks in—the whole ordeal should just be avoided at all costs.” Whizzer shrugged indifferently, as if delivering the _holy grail_ of relationship advice.

Cordelia yawned exaggeratedly, _clearly_ in denial about the subject. “I hate to interrupt your _painfully_ bleak little monologue there, Whizzer, but they’re coming over.”

Whizzer lifted his eyes to the direction of their table, quickly swallowing his shrimp. Trina was almost skipping along with the levity of her gait. Marvin, on the other hand, was practically dragging himself over, a scowl etched into his face.

“Speak of the devil!” Trina grinned at Whizzer. “I was just talking about you!”

Cordelia flicked her eyes to him, surprise evident in her gaze. He recalled Marvin _hanging on her every word_. Whizzer ignored the slight warmth that stirred in his gut.

“Oh, yeah?” Whizzer prompted lazily, glancing at Marvin.

“Unfortunately,” Marvin crossed his arms, drawing Whizzer’s eyes to the way his shirt was just a little too tight, and the faint veins in his biceps protruded.

“Nice to see you too, Marvin,” Whizzer drawled, rolling his eyes.

“I was telling him about class on Wednesday,” Trina grinned. “How Whizzer practically _annihilated_ our Poetics professor, literally shutting down every one of his criticisms.” Trina informed Cordelia, causing his best friend to roll her eyes playfully.

“Sounds like Whizzer.”

“I’m sorry, but the guy’s an asshole!” Whizzer argued in defence. “Thinks he’s so _insanely_ superior when he’s stuck in a dead-end job with a wife he hates and forced to babysit a group of students three times a week talking about shit he doesn’t know.” Whizzer narrowed his eyes, suddenly feigning surprise and gasping, “sounds like your future, Marv!”

Marvin flicked the back of his head, taking him by surprise. “Sorry, what was that? I was distracted by the sound of a lonely, depressed middle-aged man who charges for sex to keep himself fed.”

“Oh sweetie, don’t be bitter,” Whizzer placed a hand consolingly on Marvin’s arm. “Maybe if you saved up _real hard_ , you could afford me one day.” He gave him an encouraging smile. Marvin scoffed, shrugging off his hand.

“Would you two cut it out? Jeez, both of you are such assholes,” Trina huffed.

Whizzer gave her an affronted look, replying “you can really call _me_ the asshole when you’re dating _that?”_ at the same time Marvin exclaimed, “he’s the one who starts everything!”

“So, what are you two doing here anyway?” Cordelia asked the pair anxiously, trying to put an end to the rising conflict.

“Oh, we’re just grabbing a quick bite to eat before going out to the opera,” Trina replied excitedly. “It’s our one year anniversary!”

Whizzer almost choked at the idea that they’d been together for one whole year. One whole year Marvin had kept up this whole heterosexual façade. One whole year Trina had ignored the red flags. One whole year they’d emptily confessed their love to one another because that was merely the _done_ thing. It baffled him how far denial could truly stretch a person.

And it was just such a _Marvin and Trina_ thing to do, too. Whizzer fucking hated the opera. He thought the narrative was unstructured and sparse, and the singing, itself, was pretentious as hell. But here they were, the _couple of the year_ , a pair of college students, attending the opera on a Tuesday night after sushi and fried shrimp. If this was what classified as _monogamy_ , he wasn’t going to touch it with a ten-foot pole.

“One year, huh,” Whizzer muttered, dazed. Marvin was watching him, a strange look on his face. “Congrats.”

“Yeah, I had no idea!” Cordelia smiled. “Well, I hope you have a lovely evening.”

“You too,” Trina replied contentedly. “Well, we don’t want to be late! We’ll see you guys around!”

And with that, she turned and began to head towards the door.

Marvin was still standing there. “Yeah, good to see you guys. Cordelia,” he nodded to her. Marvin turned towards him, wetting his lips. “...Whizzer,” he said softly, lingering for a moment or two. And then he was gone, following Trina out the door.

Cordelia shook her head disbelievingly. “Well, fuck. You may have a point.”

* * *

That night, Whizzer said Marvin’s name for the first time during sex.

“Oh fuck, that’s the stuff,” he moaned as the guy’s grip tightened on his hips. He’d picked him up in an elusive gay bar downtown, searching for _something. What_ he was searching for seemed equally as elusive as the bar itself; he felt—restless, for want of a better word. And if the guy happened to have thick brown hair, wide blue eyes and an atrocious fashion sense, well, that was _his_ business.

“You like that, huh?” He grunted. “You like my cock?” Whizzer couldn’t refrain from rolling his eyes—jeez, the guy wasn’t auditioning for a _porno_.

“Oh, yeah, baby, give it to me.” Whizzer slipped his eyes shut. Images of muscular biceps, a cruel smirk and a sharp wit surrounded him, causing him to involuntarily groan.

“Gonna make you come so hard you can’t remember your own name,” he claimed breathlessly. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

“Stop talking,” Whizzer said absently, the image all the more heightened with his eyes closed.

He could picture it now. He’d find Marvin at the bar, insecurely drinking a _beer_ or some shit, completely out of his element. And _all_ Whizzer would need to do was murmur a few words of encouragement, slide a hand around his neck and tilt his head _just right_ to capture the other man’s lips. And, fuck, Marvin would completely _open up_. He’d be so starved for it he’d tug Whizzer’s hips against his own, pull his hair and bite at his lip, not knowing _how_ to be gentle when everything he’d ever denied himself was being offered up to him on a plate.

“Fuck, _oh_ , that’s good,” the guy _persisted_ to speak, almost dulling Whizzer’s own arousal.

And afterwards, all it would take is a quick word and Marvin would follow him blindly to the bathroom, losing _all_ sense of decency the second the door was locked. Marvin would fuck him brutally, needing the feel of Whizzer’s skin on his own so badly, he’d forget his own resentment, his internal conflict, his denial.

The idea was almost too much for Whizzer to handle. He felt a pressure building in his lower abdomen, twisting his fingers in the sheets and cursing as he felt himself hurtle over the edge. “Marvin, _fuck!_ ”

The guy pressed his face against Whizzer’s back to muffle his cry as he, too, was thrown over.

The pair lay there boneless, breathing heavily in the aftermath. ****  
** **

“Joe,” the guy said abruptly. ****  
** **

“What?” Whizzer breathed. ****  
** **

“My name is Joe.” ****  
** **

“Whatever,” Whizzer dismissed, although he felt a strange sense of astonishment at himself. He had never, in his entire life, said somebody else’s name during sex. Granted, he couldn’t recall the names of the majority of the people he’d slept with, so he’d never been in any real danger of uttering another’s name whilst fucking someone else, but  _still._

As _Joe_ gathered his shit to leave, Whizzer contemplated what he’d done. What _was_ it about Marvin? Did his quick tongue and biting remarks resonate with some deeply masochistic part of himself that got off on disrespect and cruelty? Did he find unattainable men who were in relationships significantly more attractive than those available to him due to his desire for a challenge? _Why_ was this man driving Whizzer through a loop? 

As he settled onto an empty mattress, every one of his questions was left unanswered, and for the first time in his life, he felt the vast empty space in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! just to let you know, updating may be slightly slower as I am entering the exam period.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	6. I Found Your Door

“You’re not _serious_ ,” Whizzer gaped at the professor.

“I am _not_ working with him,” Marvin growled.

“You two need to learn to work together,” the professor droned, barely glancing up from his laptop. “You bring far too much animosity to my class every time I initiate a debate of any sort. This assignment will force you to actually listen to one another because believe it or not, you both have good ideas.”

“ _Marvin_ have a good idea?” Whizzer snorted incredulously at the same time Marvin exclaimed, “he doesn’t give a shit about poetry!” They simultaneously turned to glare at one another.

“With all due respect, Sir, I’m either going to end up having to do the entire thing myself or he’s going to significantly bring my grade down!” Marvin complained.

Whizzer’s mouth dropped open. “Like _I_ would bring _your_ grade down, you’re so far up your own ass, you’d probably end up writing about yourself!”

Marvin stepped towards the professor, hands pressed together. “I will work with anyone else. Literally. _Anyone_ ,” he pleaded desperately, causing Whizzer to roll his eyes. 

“If you don’t agree to work together, I’m failing you,” the professor responded bluntly, shutting down his laptop.

Whizzer’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that! He could end up assaulting me and leaving me drugged in the middle of nowhere. I could end up being trafficked!”

“Isn’t that your worry every Friday night?” Marvin quipped, keeping eye contact with the professor. Whizzer rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, do get some new material, Marvin.”

“I’m not arguing about this,” the professor snapped. “You two are doing the project together, or I’ll fail you. I expect to see the finished product at the end of the semester.” 

With that, he packed up his laptop, gave the pair one final look before exiting the classroom, leaving Marvin and Whizzer alone.

After a beat, Marvin turned to face him. “I’m making the decisions in this project. You do what I say and we’ll get a good grade.”

Whizzer raised an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re in charge?”

“I am.” 

Whizzer took a daunting step forward. “You’re in charge?” He repeated.

Marvin nodded, his gaze steady. 

Whizzer leaned in, so close he could feel Marvin’s breath on his face. “Oh, _honey,_ you wouldn’t know what taking charge meant if it slapped you in the face.”

Satisfied, he stepped back and made his way towards the exit. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6,” Whizzer called over his shoulder, letting the door slam before he could hear Marvin’s reply.

* * * 

Whilst having the final word and leaving Marvin irritated was always a positive in Whizzer’s opinion, it became a problem when he realised he didn’t actually know where Marvin _lived._  

“Fuck,” he cursed, before reluctantly taking his phone out of his pocket and searching Trina’s name. She’d _insisted_ they had each other’s contact details the first lesson they’d sat together, demanding he take her shopping sometime. And whilst he wouldn’t have minded on the principle of saving the human population from an eyesore, the idea of spending a day trying on open-toed heels and modelling clutch bags with _Marvin’s girlfriend_ didn’t exactly appeal to him. Christ, he’d probably let it slip he kinda wanted to fuck her boyfriend and then set him on fire afterwards. 

“Hi, Trina? Where does your pain in the ass boyfriend live?” Whizzer asked the second the phone connected. She was admittedly confused due to her absence in class today, and promptly explained she’d caught the flu and wouldn’t be in at all this week. After much finagling, she finally told him the whereabouts of Marvin’s apartment—to nobody’s surprise, it was in an extortionately wealthy area. 

On his way over, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was about to walk into. This would be the first time the two men had been _completely_ alone together—no Trina, no Cordelia, no wildly ignorant lit professor. Whizzer couldn’t deny feeling a slight sense of excitement at the prospect—sure, Marvin was a pretentious fuck, but at least he had a sharp mind to keep Whizzer on his toes. He wasn’t saying he was a good person, but neither was Whizzer, and he didn’t _want_ that anyway. The fact that he could fly biting, vicious words at the other man and he wouldn’t cower or shy away from the barb, but would retaliate with equal force _thrilled_ him. It was a battle of wits whenever the two interacted and he wasn’t saying he liked Marvin, but he _did_ like his temper. 

The second he arrived at Marvin’s door, he knocked aggressively, going by the philosophy that if he had to spend an hour listening to Marvin’s condescension, Marvin had to spend an hour riled the fuck up. 

As expected, Marvin opened the door almost immediately, snapping, “you’re late,” with a glare.

“Congratulations, Marv, you can tell the time,” he smiled mock-encouragingly, shouldering past him.

His apartment was exactly how Whizzer had expected it to be, all clean surfaces and pretentious artefacts scattered on shelves. He made himself at home, curiously prodding at random objects and dragging a finger along various countertops. _Really, Marv, a Rosetta Stone replica?_ Whizzer scoffed internally. “Nice place,” He remarked. 

“Thanks,” Marvin responded warily, eyeing Whizzer cautiously as he sauntered past his undoubtedly _priceless_ ornaments. “Don’t touch anything.”

At that, Whizzer made certain to _accidentally_ let a pricey-looking lamp crash to the floor. 

“Oops,” he turned to Marvin, giving the most sincerely apologetic look he could muster. The heat of Marvin’s answering glare could have honestly incinerated him on the spot. Whizzer turned away and smiled to himself. “So how’d you afford a place like this anyway? You don’t even have a roommate.” Of course he knew how Marvin could afford a place like this—he had _trust fund baby_ written all over him. 

“My parents are loaded,” Marvin shrugged, surprisingly not radiating the level of smugness he had expected. “And I like my own space. I don’t live well with others.” 

“Why doesn’t that come as a surprise to me?” He snorted, noting the way Marvin was anxiously shifting his weight between his feet across the room, clearly uncomfortable in such close proximity with the other man. Whizzer let a predatory grin spread across his face. “The question is, Marv, do you _play_ well with others?”

He was surprised by Marvin’s laugh, his teeth glinting under the overhead lights. “Jesus, Whizzer, you could be making a hundred bucks an hour for lines like those.” 

“You think I’m pretty enough for porn?” Whizzer asked coyly, batting his eyelashes.

“Sure, Whizzer, I think you could get into any porno you set your sights on,” he teased sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“It’s good money, Marv," he raised an eyebrow invitingly. "Maybe you should consider joining me."  

Marvin’s playful smile faded at the implication, his brow furrowing as he coughed pointedly. “So, are we going to do this thing or what?” 

For a fleeting moment, Whizzer honest to God believed that Marvin was _actually_ taking him up on his offer. And then he remembered the _poetry,_ and internally cursed whatever deity was condemning him to this fate. 

“Oh, the _poetry_ ,” he groaned, dropping into Marvin’s swivel chair. “You’re no fun,” 

“Yes, the poetry,” Marvin’s rolled his eyes. “Unlike _some_ people, I actually care about my grades. And it’s not _meant_ to be fun. We’re here to do a school project, not sit around braiding each other's hair and talking about girls.” 

“Girls? Please, you’re so 1950s,” he scoffed, spinning in the chair and letting his head fall back as he watched Marvin’s apartment spin in his vision. Couch, TV, fridge, fake plant, couch, TV, fridge, fake plant—

He heard Marvin huff from the other side of the room, and the next second, Marvin’s arms were bracing him on either side, gripping the chair and halting his movements. Whizzer blinked at the abrupt change of pace, flicking his eyes to Marvin’s neck and chest, which were mere centimetres from him. _Fuck_ , that shirt was tight. 

“Well, this is cosy,” he murmured at their newfound proximity, and ever so slowly rubbed a knee up Marvin’s thigh, wanting to see his eyes widen and breath hitch in his throat. 

It was almost too _easy_ how responsive Marvin was. He jumped back as if he’d been shocked, facing away from Whizzer and rubbing the back of his neck. "Why do you always do that?” he said quietly in a hard voice.

“Why do I always do _what?”_

"Try to-to tempt me!" Marvin suddenly snapped, spinning to face Whizzer. "I don't _get_ tempted, Whizzer." 

Whizzer laughed coldly, standing from the chair. “Tempt you? I can’t _force_ you to want to sleep with men, Marvin. That’s all you.”

Marvin completely disregarded his statement. “Is this all just a game to you? Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than try to trick straight men into having sex with you?”

 _“Trick_ straight men into having sex with me?” A flush of anger stirred in Whizzer. “Newsflash, honey, if your dick gets fucking hard in the middle of a bar after I’ve barely touched you, you might want to reconsider your stance on your apparent heterosexuality.” 

“The only person I get _hard_ for is my _girlfriend_. Trina,” he ground out, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that fact, too. He laughed abruptly, “you know, you’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” Whizzer gestured to himself incredulously. “ _I’m_ pathetic? I’m not the one prancing around in a fucking platonic relationship with someone for an entire _year_. Maybe the reason you know so much about platonic relationships is because you’re in one!” 

“Well, at least someone actually wants to be in a relationship with me!” Marvin snapped. “All you are is a pretty boy with a sharp tongue.”

“Oh, yeah?” Whizzer took an ominous step towards the other man, causing Marvin’s back to hit the wall in an effort to maintain the same space between them. 

“Yeah. All you have going for you is your lips and thighs.” 

Whizzer’s tongue slowly wetted his lips and Marvin’s eyes dropped to them instinctively. Oh, well if he wanted to play it _that_ way—

“You been looking at my thighs, Marvin?” He murmured, diminishing the distance between them and leaving the two men chest to chest. 

Marvin blinked slowly, surprised at the sudden change in pace, his gaze still following the movements of Whizzer’s lips. “I—”

Whizzer wound a hand around the back of his neck and delved his fingers into his hair, tugging the strands slightly. Marvin’s eyes slid shut and he let out a soft sound, his head tilting backwards as Whizzer manipulated his movements.

“I’ve seen you,” Whizzer said quietly, fixated on the veins bulging from Marvin’s neck and the way he audibly swallowed, “watching me in class.” 

Whizzer canted his hips towards Marvin’s, pressing a single kiss to his neck.

“Whizzer,” Marvin breathed, his fingers twitching at his sides, wanting to touch but not knowing where or even _how_ to.

“See, Marvin, you say you don’t want this,” Whizzer bit at the delicate skin of Marvin’s neck, causing the other man to jump. Whizzer smirked. “But you need someone to take control of you sometimes, quiet those inhibitions and reservations you got going on up there. You want someone strong,” he began to suck at a sensitive spot just below Marvin’s ear. Marvin shuddered at the feeling, eyes remaining shut. “Someone to take you and fuck you the way you want to be fucked, the way you need to be,” he murmured, nipping at that very same spot and feeling a sense of satisfaction by the mark he’d left on the other man. “The way I would.”

And then it was over. Abruptly, Whizzer let his hand fall from Marvin’s hair and his mouth detach from Marvin’s neck. 

Marvin’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked at Whizzer, eyes glazed and disoriented. “Why’d you stop?” 

 _“Straight men_ tend to not want to have sex with other men,” Whizzer smiled icily. “And I’d hate to have to expose your poor _innocent_ , heterosexual self to the likes of someone as _pathetic_ as me.”

Marvin’s mouth twisted and he glared at Whizzer, like a _child_ being denied what he wanted. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh, and you might want to make sure Trina doesn’t see that,” Whizzer sucked in a breath of air, mock-concerned for the other man. “That looks painful, how’d you get it? Falling down a flight of stairs perhaps?” 

Marvin’s hand slapped to the mark Whizzer had left on his neck, his eyes widening in realization. 

By the time he’d turned to look at Whizzer, however, the other man was on the other side of his apartment, lingering in the doorway. He paused and turned to face Marvin, a devilish grin gracing his features. “I look forward to our next _study session_ , Marv,” he said sarcastically, before slamming the door behind him. 

Marvin sunk into the swivel chair, wondering how the fuck he was going to finish this project. 


	7. I’m Not So Rich

The next day, Whizzer arrived early to class again. 

More and more frequently, he seemed to be one of the first to the class, and would either find Marvin already seated, typically making notes and re-reading their poetry anthology, or walking in moments after him. 

Today, however, there was no sight of the other man.

Whizzer made his way to the back of the room, electing to physically create as much distance as he could between himself and the professor, lest he actually attempt to _involve_ him. His eyes flickered to the clock at the head of the room, fixated by the way the seconds progressed as he waited for Marvin to arrive. 

As the seconds quickly turned to minutes, he could feel himself becoming antsy with the absence of his amusement of the hour. Marvin was _always_ at least twenty minutes early, without fail; once, while in full douche-mode, he’d mentioned it had something to do with _maximising his potential_ and _working to his full capacity,_ or something equally as trite. And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. 

He couldn’t help but feel himself deflate slightly as the class steadily began to fill with students, leaving a mere few minutes before the class started. He shifted in his seat, agitated. Where _was_ the fuck? Whizzer hadn’t _once_ missed one of these classes, and here Marvin was, having the audacity to not attend? How could he survive an hour in this room without hearing Marvin’s irritated huff or seeing his eyes roll into the back of his head? The only reason Whizzer showed up _at all_ was to feed his sadistic appetite.

He watched the door, the idea that he’d scared the man off for good by the stunt he’d pulled in his apartment last night at the forefront of his mind. Sure, he’d been looking to provoke a reaction from the guy, he just hadn’t quite anticipated it could come in the form of _absence_. Had he gone too far? Had Marvin only been driven further into the realm of self-denial and repression by Whizzer’s teasing? 

Marvin had given him hints into what he truly desired, whispers of _“please”_ and  _“you make me so hot”_ resonating in his mind whenever he was in the presence of the other man. The truth was, Whizzer hated watching somebody parade around as something they weren’t. It only served to uproot memories of living with his own parents, the sound of the front door slamming and a chest heavy with disappointment like bile in his throat.

But Whizzer wasn’t _special_ in that regard; as Mendel had once advised him after overhearing an incredibly uncomfortable telephone conversation with his (albeit unsurprisingly) neurotic mother, _everyone hates his parents._

Whizzer mentally slapped himself for allowing Marvin to get under his skin so easily. What did _he_ care if he didn’t come to class? Heck, he didn’t give a _fuck_ if the man had been _run over_ on the walk over here.

“Okay class, I’d like you to turn to page 81,” the professor began, and the class hushed. “Today we’ll be beginning our exploration into Wilde’s poetry.”

Not particularly feeling up to a fight, Whizzer diligently opened his anthology and began flicking through the pages in anticipation of a painstakingly slow lesson. 

Just as he reached the page, the door swung open to reveal Marvin. In a _turtleneck_. 

The professor halted mid-speech, and, as if in commemoration of their very first Poetry class, red-faced and breathing heavily, Marvin blurted out an incredibly lengthy and intricate reason as to why he was not on time. 

The professor raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Meselson, should I be expecting an interruption of this kind _every_ time I begin a lecture?” He questioned rhetorically, casting a critical eye over the hot mess that was Marvin. “Take a seat.” 

Marvin nodded hurriedly, quickly scanning the room until his gaze met Whizzer’s, his eyes flicking to the free seat to his left. After a moment's hesitation, he made his way over. 

Whizzer couldn’t help but grin as Marvin took his seat, quietly mocking, _“what_ are you _wearing?”_

Immediately, Marvin’s face flushed and he directed a scathing look at Whizzer. “Shut _up_.”

Whizzer blurted a laugh as he scanned Marvin’s apparel. “Jesus Christ, Marvin, you look like you’ve come straight from directing kiddie porn.” 

Marvin shifted in his seat, tugging at the sleeves self-consciously. “Oh, ha ha, Whizzer, that’s hilarious,” he huffed. “You’re the reason I’m wearing this thing anyhow, _dick_ , so knock it off."

“Oh, _poor_ Marvin," Whizzer mocked, jutting his lower lip out sullenly. "Want me to kiss your pride better for you?"

Marvin glared harder, causing Whizzer's grin to widen. He paused, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the hottest kiddie porn director _I’ve_ ever seen.”

Marvin elbowed him. “You’re sick.”

The professor hushed them, directing a stern look to the back of the class before continuing his lecture.

“No, but for real,” Whizzer continued more quietly, “aren’t you burning up right now? It’s _literally_ still Summer weather.”

Marvin leaned in, a stray curl brushing Whizzer’s ear. “Whizzer, it’s ninety fucking degrees out there and I’m wearing a turtleneck. What do you think?”

Instinctively, Whizzer laid his palm on Marvin’s forehead. Marvin let out a quiet sigh in relief at the cool pressure of Whizzer’s hand, his eyes briefly closing. “Fuck, you really are hot,” Whizzer frowned. “You feeling okay?” 

Marvin’s eyes snapped open and he pushed Whizzer’s hand away, seeming to remember where he was. “I’m _fine_ , I just want to know which page we’re on,” he urged, looking lost as he flicked through the anthology at warp speed.

It was oddly endearing to witness Marvin in such a state of disarray, scanning through the pages as his brow creased in concentration and he bit at his lip. Whizzer leaned back in his chair and observed the other man, amused.

“My, my, this isn’t like you, Marv,” he mocked. “You’re arriving late, you haven’t done any reading in advance… What’s next, you dye your hair purple and get a tongue piercing?”

Marvin didn’t look up from the book, pointedly ignoring Whizzer as he continued to fruitlessly search through the poems.

Whizzer huffed at the lack of attention. “Oscar Wilde. Page 81.” 

Marvin turned to the page, glancing up at Whizzer in mock-surprise. “Well, this is a first. Whizzer Brown actually being helpful.”

“I’m only helping you so I can copy off you later, nerd,” he replied sardonically.

“Oh no, what are you going to do next, Whizzer, steal my lunch money?” Marvin responded dryly, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s an idea. Your lunch money’s probably the equivalent of some poor kid’s entire tuition bill.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Marvin gasped, mock-scandalised. 

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “I’m calling you _loaded_.”

The smile faded from Marvin’s face. “I’m not so rich.”

“Oh please, I saw your apartment,” Whizzer scoffed. 

“Money isn’t everything, Whizzer.”

“Money is everything to those who have none,” Whizzer pointed out, ignoring the newfound tension in Marvin’s posture.

“Well, I was an only child,” he said defensively.

“I know,” Whizzer snorted.

Marvin turned to face him, confused. “What are you, stalking me now? I’ve never told you that.”

“Marv, you have it written all over you,” Whizzer bit his lip to refrain from laughing at Marvin’s affronted expression.

“Meaning?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Your self-important and entitled attitude says everything I need to know, babe,” he smiled sweetly. 

Marvin crossed his arms, clearly taking offense to Whizzer’s observation. “Well, you obviously have sisters,” he retorted, eyeing Whizzer.

“Because I’m blatantly queer?” Whizzer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Because of how protective you are of Cordelia,” Marvin corrected him, meeting Whizzer’s gaze. “You treat her like a sister.”

Whizzer appraised the other man’s smug expression before coming to a conclusion. “Well, I only have _one_ sister. Singular. So suck it.”

Marvin rolled his eyes and leaned back further into his chair. His fingers reached up to tug at his shirt uncomfortably, the material stretching away from his neck and exposing the mark he’d left on Marvin. 

Without realising it, he caught the neck of Marvin’s turtleneck between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me see,” he murmured, pulling the material from his neck. Marvin huffed but tilted his neck so Whizzer could have better access.

And there it was. The purpling bruise he’d left on his neck stood out starkly against his soft skin, leaving Whizzer with a slight sense of awe. He traced his fingers around the mark, the purples and pinks all leading to the single thought that _he’d_ been the one to leave it there, it had been _his_ mouth that had sucked and licked at Marvin’s neck and everytime Marvin looked at his reflection, he would think of _Whizzer._

“When are you seeing Trina?” He asked, almost giddy with the thought that Marvin would need to explain to his girlfriend how he had obtained such a mark. 

Marvin moved away from Whizzer’s prying hands, leaning back. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “She’s adamant about coming to the party Friday night, despite puking up her guts every other hour.”

“Party?” Whizzer queried, surprised by the fact this was the first he was hearing about it.

“Mr. Brown and Mr. Meselson, will you _desist_ ,” the professor snapped from the front of the room. “Some of us are here to learn.” 

“Sorry, Sir,” Marvin responded apologetically. “Whizzer was just helping me find where we are in the poem.” 

“Well, since you two are such _experts_ on Wilde—Mr. Brown, why don’t you read us the stanza beginning from line 37,” the professor challenged smugly.

Whizzer rolled his eyes but obliged, finding the section that was being referred to and clearing his throat. “ _Yet each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard, some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word, the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword_ ,” he recited monotonously, crossing his arms as he finished the line.

“And Mr. Meselson, if you’d be so kind as to read the following stanza,” the professor smiled sardonically. 

Marvin breathed in deeply, probably thrilled at the prospect of having the class’ attention all to himself. “ _Some kill their love when they are young, and some when they are old; some strangle with the hands of lust, some with the hands of gold: the kindest use a knife, because the dead so soon grow cold_.”

“Thank you. Now, if you two will stop talking long enough to catch a breath, you might actually learn something,” he glared at the pair, letting them off the hook as he picked on a student across the room from Marvin and Whizzer. They allowed a beat to pass before continuing their conversation.

“Tiffany Axelrod,” Marvin whispered, once again leaning in so Whizzer could hear him. He felt his lips brush against his ear as he spoke. “She’s having an open-door party Friday night. You should come,” he bit his lip, staring up at Whizzer with wide, clear eyes.

“Do you want me to come?” Whizzer asked him lowly, flicking his eyes to his lips.

Marvin swallowed thickly. “Yeah… I think it’ll be fun.”

Whizzer’s lip turned upwards at one end. “Maybe I’ll make an appearance,” he said flippantly. “I’ll have to check my schedule, I’m pretty high in demand.”

Marvin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Well, maybe I’ll see you there then.”

 _“Maybe_ you will,” Whizzer raised his brows, his eyes alight with humour. 

And maybe he _would_ show. Maybe Marvin _did_ care if he attended the party. Maybe Marvin actually gave a shit about whether Whizzer turned up to class, too. 

Looking at the way Marvin’s cheeks had flushed and the smile lingered on his face, maybe it was possible he _too_ thought about the feeling of the other’s lips on his own more often than he would care to admit.  


	8. It’s Been Hot

The second Whizzer set foot in Tiffany Axelrod’s apartment, he was hit by a miasma of cheap beer and the overwhelming stench of sweat. ****  
** **

“So _this_ is why we avoid college parties,” Cordelia chuckled, her gaze settling on a group of frat boys chanting encouragements to their friend, who had submerged his entire face in a bucket of murky-coloured alcohol as he imbibed the contents. ****  
** **

“Oh, the joys of being a horny, emotionally-repressed adolescent male,” Whizzer hummed, amused.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Whizzer, but I’m so glad I’m a woman.” ** **  
** **

Whizzer nodded in agreement, eyeing the way an overweight red-headed boy had started to strip on top of the living room table, revealing nipple tassels and a _thong_. 

“‘Delia, let’s get hammered,” he implored her. 

”You read my mind,” she grinned, taking his hand.

Making their way to the kitchen was a challenge in itself. They’d arrived an hour late, and subsequently had entered the party whilst it was in full swing, the occupants of the apartment well on their way to becoming completely and utterly inebriated.  ** **  
** **

Having finally reached the makeshift bar at the counter, Whizzer grabbed a bottle of tequila and wasted no time in pouring two shots. ****  
** **

“Bottom’s up,” Cordelia grinned as he passed her the shot, clinking her glass against his and throwing their heads back. ****  
** **

He couldn’t help but wince, the alcohol burning a torturous line down his throat and creating a warm feeling in his gut. “Fuck, I hate tequila.”

”You _always_ say that.”

”And I always _mean_ it,” he defended himself.

”You mean it up until you’ve had half a dozen shots, you mean,” she grinned knowingly at him, to which he flipped her off. 

Leaning back against the counter, he absently scanned the crowd of people. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t searching for a wavy head of hair and some outdated, uncoordinated _mess_ of an outfit to go with it. He’d also be lying if he said he hadn’t come tonight to see how this game he and Marvin had been playing since they’d met would pan out.

 “You haven’t seen Marvin, have you?” He casually asked Cordelia, pointedly avoiding eye contact as she glanced at him in surprise. ****  
** **

“No, I haven’t,” she responded warily. “I didn’t know he was coming. Why?” ****  
** **

“No reason,” Whizzer responded flippantly, the numerous surreptitious glances she was sending his way burning a hole in the side of his face. He rolled his eyes, and turned to face her. “What, a guy can’t wonder what his least favourite person is doing on a Friday night?”  ** **  
****

He wondered if he was overplaying it. 

“No, Whizzer, that’s kind of the whole point of your _least favourite person_ ,” she gave him a strange look. “You don’t think about them. Way to be dramatic as fuck, by the way. He’s really not even that bad.” ****  
** **

He definitely overplayed it.

“Well, whatever. I wasn’t thinking about him anyway,” he huffed. “I’m getting us another drink.”  ****  
** **

“Vodka cranberry, for me,” she called after him unnecessarily, as if after years of being her best friend he didn’t already _know_ her drink. ** **  
** **

He migrated over to the bar, the kitchen no less crowded than the remainder of the house.

Jesus, it was _hot_ in here, he cursed, partially regretting the decision to wear long sleeves. Granted, he’d never been one to favour comfort over fashion, but _fuck_ if he wasn’t beginning to sweat. He cursed Marvin, too. After all, the only reason he’d decided to wear this particular outfit was for the way it accentuated his broad chest and showed off his ass. 

In the process of mixing two vodka cranberries, he was jolted to awareness by a hand on his lower back and a body crowding behind his.  ****  
** **

“You made it,” Marvin purred in his ear, a little light on his feet, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. _Clearly_ , he’d started partying in advance. ****  
** **

Whizzer twisted around, taken aback by the proximity between the two men, sandwiched between Marvin and the counter. He smirked. “Yeah, I saw that pathetic look on your face and knew I’d have to swing by.” ****  
** **

“Oh, yeah?” Marvin grinned, placing both hands on either side of Whizzer’s body, bracing him in.

“Yeah. What can I say, I’m a charitable person.”

“You’re saying you’re only here tonight because of me?“ An infuriatingly smug expression had settled onto Marvin’s face, ignoring Whizzer’s mocking tone. “You wouldn’t have come otherwise?”  ****  
** **

As ever, Marvin was almost the _epitome_ of arrogance. Whizzer rolled his eyes. ** **  
** **

“Well, I would’ve _come_ regardless. After all, I turned down a booty call for your mental stability.”  ****  
** **

As expected, the playful expression was drawn from Marvin’s face. Whizzer’s lips quirked devilishly. “I’d rather not hear about your _conquests,_ Whizzer.” ** **  
** **

“Well, _I’d_ rather my own personal yacht and an endless supply of pool boys to satisfy my needs but we don’t always get what we want, now do we, Marvin?” He smiled sweetly.  ****  
** **

Marvin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the counter, and there must’ve been something _seriously_ wrong with Whizzer, because he found himself getting _turned on_ at the sight. “No, you’re right… We don’t,” he said thickly, the statement loaded in its implication _._ ** **  
** **

Impulsively, Whizzer placed his hands on the small of Marvin’s back and pulled him closer. His thumb came to rest on the sliver of skin between Marvin’s shirt and pants, beginning to slowly rub circles into his hip. ****  
** **

Marvin’s breath quickened imperceptibly. “So you’re staying?” ****  
** **

“That all depends,” Whizzer replied, enjoying the hold he had over the other man, the dazed look in his eyes making him pliant and accessible. ****  
** **

“Depends on what?” Marvin allowed himself to indulge in the motion of Whizzer slowly beginning to gyrate their hips together, hissing at the friction. ** **  
** **

“Depends,” Whizzer tightened his grip, “where your girlfriend is.”  ****  
** **

At the mention of Trina, Marvin’s body went rigid, the unconscious movement of his hips halting. “Why did you—“ he cut off, stumbling back as if he’d been slapped. “It’s your fault—“ ** **  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go, _my fault_. Of course. What _isn’t_ my fault?” ** **  
** **

“It’s your fault I’m so...” Marvin struggled with himself, eyes wide and lost. “Confused.”  ****  
** **

And in that moment, Whizzer saw everything. He saw the fear, the self-hatred, the denial, the reason why he allowed Whizzer closer time and time again, in need of one sweet reprieve, anything to sate the burning need he had inside of him. He saw his conflicted mind, his worries about Trina, the bafflement and bemusement, _all of it._ ****  
** **

And Whizzer should’ve left it at that. Put a stop to it, seen he’d gone too far and let Marvin be, foregoing his own twisted games and allow him on his own journey to self-discovery or whatever other bullshit came with sexual enlightenment. ****  
** **

Instead, he faced Marvin, shoulders rolled back, enjoying the height advantage he had over the other man. He smiled icily, maliciously. “You know why I do it, Marv? Why I find _pleasure_ in making you feel that way?” ** **  
** **

“Why?” He glared hatefully up at Whizzer, not missing a beat. ****  
** **

His fingers slid into Marvin’s hair at the back of his head, abruptly yanking his head back and whispering in the shell of his ear: “Because I _can_.” ****  
** **

Letting him go, he pushed past, striding into the crowds of people and leaving the other man standing alone and more confused than ever. ****  
** **

Moments later, he found Trina, Mendel and Cordelia all sitting around a table in the living room. At the sight of her best friend, Cordelia’s expression shifted to one of surprise. ****  
** **

“Hey!” She made space for him beside her on the sofa as he slumped into the seat. “So much for those drinks. What happened?”  ****  
** **

Whizzer sighed, pulling her legs into his lap as he absently rubbed circles into her ankle. “Couldn’t find the vodka.”

All things considered, it was a pretty _shit_ excuse—he’d been at the _bar,_ for fuck’s sakes. ****  
** **

Apparently he’d been more convincing than he’d realised, judging from the way Cordelia grinned at him, hair bouncing and teeth glinting. “Well, you’re in luck, because guess what we found.” She gestured forward to reveal a table full of various different bottles of alcohol, presumably all dirt cheap and of horrendous quality—not that _he_ was complaining.  ** **  
** **

Trina leaned forwards to catch Whizzer’s eye, smiling sweetly because when _wasn’t_ she? “Hey, Whizzer, didn’t get a chance to say ‘hi’ yet, how’ve you been?” ****  
** **

“Good, I’m good,” he returned her smile. Despite any misgivings he had about her sanity in choosing to date Marvin, Trina was, ultimately, a _good_ person. Tried too hard to please? Probably. Made bad choices? No doubt. Delusional? Definitely. But she’d never done anything against _him_ , personally, so what _real_ reason did he have to dislike her? “What about you, though? How are you feeling?” ****  
** **

“I’m great actually!” She replied enthusiastically. “How’s Marvin been in class this week? Chronically depressed without me?” She asked, a teasing grin on her face.  ****  
** **

He felt an overwhelming urge to snort, but managed to refrain. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” ****  
** **

“What’s this about me?” Marvin grinned as he entered the room, having regained his typical arrogant composure. He took a seat between Trina and a disgruntled Mendel, who’d been silently basking in the mere foot of space between the two, the opportunity to interact with Trina without her boyfriend too tempting to pass up.

“Just about class this week,” Trina smiled as Marvin looped an arm around her neck. “How you couldn’t survive without me.”

“You doubted that for a second?” Marvin gave her a charming smile, his gaze spitefully flickering to Whizzer’s as he connected his lips to his girlfriend’s. Whizzer narrowed his eyes as the two practically _made out_ on the sofa across from him. He dug his fingers harder into Cordelia’s ankle. ****  
** **

“Get a room!” Cordelia yelled playfully. ****  
** **

“Yeah, guys, come on,” Mendel gave a strained laugh, uncomfortable sharing a sofa with the two.  ****  
** **

Marvin pulled back with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender. Trina gave a bashful smile as Marvin left a hand on her thigh.  ****  
** **

Suddenly, Cordelia tensed from beside him. “Oh, shit, Whizzer,” she said anxiously. “It’s Charlotte, look.” He followed her gaze to her crush, who indeed happened to be walking towards them. “ _Fuck_ , do I look okay?” She hurriedly ruffled her hair and fixed her shirt. ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes, smiling a little at her nervous disposition. “You look sexy as hell, ‘Delia, don’t worry.” He tugged her shirt down to expose more of her chest, giving her a wink in the process. “She won’t be able to resist you.” She beamed at his reassurance. ****  
** **

“Cordelia, hey!” Charlotte called, grinning. “You never told me you were coming tonight!” ****  
** **

“Oh, didn’t I? Oh, well I am coming. I mean, I’m already here. Yeah,” she giggled nervously. Whizzer resisted the urge to facepalm. “Hey, take a seat, we were just about to start the game!” ****  
** **

“What game?” Whizzer asked as Charlotte seated herself beside Cordelia, much to his best friend’s sheer delight. ****  
** **

“Um, truth or dare, of course,” Cordelia announced, happily.

Mendel laughed at the prospect. “Oh, please, we’re not in _seventh grade._ No one plays truth or dare anymore.”  ****  
** **

“I beg to differ,” Cordelia raised an eyebrow superiorly. “Oh, and new rule: every time it’s your turn, you need to take a shot,” she announced gleefully. Whizzer knew her well enough that this supposed _new rule_ was most definitely a ploy to encourage Charlotte’s affections and provide herself with some liquid courage. Not that _he_ , himself, had ever engaged in such tactics, of course. “Okay, Charlotte, you start.”  ** **  
** **

Charlotte regretfully threw back the shot, hastily reaching for a chaser after she’d done. Whizzer didn’t miss the way Cordelia’s eyes subconsciously zoned in on Charlotte’s lips. “Truth.” ****  
** **

“Do you fancy anyone at the moment?” Cordelia inquired giddily, not missing a beat. _Fuck, 'Delia, thirsty much?_ ****  
** **

“Maybe,” Charlotte answered cryptically, a secretive smile plastered on her face. Whizzer raised his eyebrows. And he thought _he_ was gay. “What about you?” ****  
** **

Cordelia tutted playfully, instructing Charlotte to: “Wait your _turn_.” ** **  
** **

“Okay, Mendel, you’re up. Truth or dare.” ****  
** **

“Dare,” he grimaced after taking a shot, undoubtedly in the hope it would somehow involve Trina and he’d be able to get his rocks off. Whizzer had to give the guy credit; he was ever the optimist, even if that optimism was aimed in all the wrong directions. The group glanced at one other in deliberation of what dare to give him. ****  
** **

“I dare _you_ ,” Whizzer spoke suddenly, smirking cunningly, “to let Trina sit in your lap the entire game.” ****  
** **

At that, Mendel almost choked on his drink, staring at Whizzer with wide eyes. He turned to Trina. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he advised her, a gentleman before anything else. ** **  
** **

She glanced furtively at Marvin, who was too busy glaring at Whizzer to notice. Hesitantly, she agreed. “No, no, it’s part of the game, it’s fine.” She smiled a little, getting up from her place on the sofa and seating herself delicately in Mendel’s lap. His arms came to rest either side of her, face flushed and sweating.  ****  
** **

“That’s a ridiculous dare,” Marvin grumbled. No one heeded his complaint. ****  
** **

“Trina, it’s you. Truth or dare.” ** **  
** **

“Uh, truth,” she mumbled, accepting the shot Mendel passed her and drinking half of it. Whizzer rolled his eyes; everybody was so _predictable_. ** **  
** **

“Are you _actually_ in love with Marvin?” Mendel blurted, seemingly without thinking.

Whizzer blinked. Okay, maybe not as predictable as he’d thought. ** **  
** **

A collective breath of surprise spread through the group at the question. Trina raised her eyebrows, a look of shock contorting her features. ****  
** **

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Mendel?” Marvin growled from the other end of the couch, eyes narrowed. “Of course she loves me.”  ****  
** **

There was a slight pause as the group waited with bated breath for Trina’s response.  ****  
** **

“Yes, I love Marvin,” Trina answered carefully - cowed, almost. “More than anyone.” ****  
** **

“See,” Marvin said triumphantly, crossing his arms and leaning back into the sofa. It was unclear as to _what_ he believed he had won, however. After all, he didn’t need to _prove_ anything to anyone if _he_ was confident in Trina’s answer. ****  
** **

The tension was palpable in the room as an uncomfortable silence settled amongst the group, uncertain of how to proceed. A hint of a smirk crept onto Whizzer’s face. ****  
** **

“Uh, okay. Marvin, your turn,” Cordelia laughed nervously. ****  
** **

This was going to be _good._ ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

Two hours later, the game had somehow maintained its momentum, the participants almost doubling in size as the number of shots on the table had decreased drastically. At this point in the night, there was no doubt that they were all well and truly _plastered._ ****  
** **

“I _love_ tequila,” Whizzer announced carelessly, having slumped into his chair, his shirt hitched up to his sternum and his hair askew. A warm buzz flowed through his veins at the contented atmosphere around him.

From this angle, he had a perfect view of Marvin on the sofa across from him. He observed the way Marvin had relaxed completely with the alcohol, his gaze subconsciously having settled on the exposed skin of Whizzer’s stomach. The worst thing was he didn’t think Marvin even knew he was _doing_ it, any intention of being discreet having become obsolete with the volume of alcohol they’d consumed.

“What did I tell you, Whizzer?” Cordelia giggled, bringing him back to the present.

A wide grin stretched across his face. “God, you’re right.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Come to think of it, you’re _always_ right,” he smiled menacingly. “What a catch you are, ‘Delia. Hey, Trina,” Whizzer gained her attention. “Just out of interest, you’d definitely fuck ‘Delia, right?”

Trina giggled uncontrollably at the question. “Are you kidding? If I were into women, I’d be scissoring you in a _heartbeat_.” 

Cordelia apparently found this _hilarious_ , judging by the way she’d placed a hand on her chest and was wheezing. “Oh, Trina, baby, that means the _world_.”

Whizzer chuckled at Trina’s response, so uncharacteristic from someone so reserved. “Exactly! Any girl would be _lucky_ to have her.” She grinned at him. “Speaking of, Charlotte, is it your go?”

“Yeah, Whizzer, it’s my turn,” Charlotte rolled her eyes playfully, knowing _damn well_ he knew it was.

“Uh, okay, let me think about that one.” He let a moment pass where he was _thinking_ hard, in which he re-enacted his greatest Mendel impression. “Oh, I’ve got a good one!” He feigned a look of surprise, his acting skills fooling exactly no one, judging from the short look Charlotte was sending him from the other end of the sofa. “I dare _you_ to kiss ‘Delia, here.” ****  
** **

Cordelia flushed immediately, apparently the _only one_ who hadn’t seen it coming. “Oh, you don’t have to, Charlotte. Don’t feel pressured just because Whizzer’s being an ass.”  ****  
** **

“No, it’s fine,” Charlotte reassured her, unperturbed by her anxiety. “Come here,” she smiled, crooking her finger playfully as she invited her closer.  ****  
** **

Cordelia shifted forward as Charlotte threaded her hands through the blonde’s hair, gently pulling her closer and connecting their lips. ****  
** **

Whizzer’s let his gaze lazily drift to Marvin to find the other man already watching him. He’d slumped further into the chair, eyes half-lidded and focused on that same strip of Whizzer’s abdomen that was exposed. Just to test what he’d do, Whizzer moved his fingers to his buttons and nimbly began to unbutton his shirt, all the while watching Marvin. “It’s so hot in here,” he declared needlessly, justifying the action to anybody watching him. And honestly, he wasn’t quite sure what was so stimulating about his bare chest but Marvin fucking _devoured_ the sight, letting a small smirk slip into place at the little show Whizzer was giving him. He pulled apart his shirt wider and placed a hand on his clavicle, ever so slowly lowering his hand to rub back and forth over his abdomen. Marvin’s eyes avidly followed the movement.

It was a miracle Trina was distracted by Charlotte and Cordelia because Whizzer wasn’t sure he had the capacity of being tactful right now. 

He was brought back to reality by Cordelia’s insistent touch on his thigh. He tore his eyes from Marvin’s. “Hey, Whizzer, it’s your go.”

“Dare,” he said immediately, not waiting for the question.  ****  
** **

Charlotte grinned devilishly, taking advantage of the opportunity she had been presented with. There was a knowing glint in her eyes Whizzer wasn’t sure he liked. “Okay, Whizzer, fair’s fair. I dare _you_ to kiss Marvin.” ****  
** **

At that, all of the air seemed to have been sucked straight out of the room. A collective shock spread through the participants playing the game, the idea completely and utterly unexpected. Whizzer, himself, simply blinked. ****  
** **

Marvin directed a look at Trina, silently asking for some kind of response. Whether he wanted her approval or her dismissal was unclear. ****  
** **

Unexpectedly, Trina laughed from her position in Mendel’s lap, partially breaking the tension in the room. “Sure, go for it, I’d prefer you kiss Whizzer than some girl, anyway.”  ****  
** **

And maybe she was more drunk than Whizzer gave her credit for, but she appeared _completely_ unphased by the idea of her boyfriend kissing another man. The mere thought that her secure, masculine boyfriend was partial to men was _so_ out of the realm of possibility to Trina, the prospect simply held no threat. ** **  
** **

“Well, if she’s game, I am,” Whizzer challenged, raising an eyebrow at Marvin. ****  
** **

“I’m always game,” Marvin countered, the speed at which he replied betraying his stab at indifference. “Get over here, then.”

“Not going to _woo_ me first?” He feigned a gasp, getting up from his position on the sofa and sauntering towards the other man. “I’m not as easy as you think I am, Marv.”

“That’s cute,” Marvin responded drily, “but I think we all know you’d get on your knees for anything with a heartbeat, sweetheart.” 

Whizzer reached the edge of the sofa, standing directly in front of Marvin. He put his hands on the other man’s shoulders, perhaps more forcefully than necessary, and pushed him so he hit the sofa back. Marvin’s eyes flashed up to his, a hint of arousal stirring in his gaze as Whizzer looked down upon him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Whizzer clambered into Marvin’s lap, straddling his legs either side of the other man. Instinctively, Marvin’s hand came to rest on his upper thighs. ****  
** **

“You ever been this close to heaven, Marv?” Whizzer bit his lip as he started rocking forward in his lap, so subtly only the two of them could notice.  ****  
** **

“Considering you’re literally the devil incarnate,” he murmured, eyes locked on Whizzer’s lips, “I’d say I’ve never been further.”

“Oh, this biblical talk is really turning me on,” Whizzer leered lowly, fully aware of the bulge in Marvin’s pants, his hardness pressing into Whizzer’s own crotch and causing him to bite his lip at the contact. “If I’m the devil, who’re you, Marv? Adam?” ****  
** **

“I guess so,” Marvin mumbled, eyes glinting under the dimmed lights as his fingers began to dig into Whizzer’s hips. ** **  
** **

“Adam gave into temptation eventually, you know,” Whizzer purred, his voice low and indecipherable to those surrounding them.  ** **  
** **

“How could he resist?” Marvin whispered, and as the words left his mouth, Marvin’s hands slid into his hair and he pulled Whizzer forward to crash their lips together. ****  
** **

The moment he felt Marvin’s lips against his own, Whizzer sighed blissfully, sliding his arms around the back of his neck. And for a fleeting moment, that’s all the kiss was—sweet, tender presses of Marvin’s lips to his. Even the movement of their bodies stopped, the entirety of the kiss revolving around the single point of connection between the two. ****  
** **

That’s when Marvin nipped at his lip and it was _on_.  ****  
** **

In response, Whizzer tugged _hard_ at the other man’s hair, causing him to gasp and giving Whizzer easy access to slip his tongue into Marvin’s mouth, licking filthily inside as he practically _bruised_ Marvin’s lips. The frustration in Marvin’s touch was evident in his kiss, in every tilt of his head, every flick of his tongue, every small sound he made, all alluding to the single thought that he was _desperate_ for this. Touch-starved and needy, he melted under Whizzer’s attention, and Whizzer couldn’t help but _devour_ him, devour this mess of a man who didn’t know what he wanted but knew that in this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than _Whizzer._ Marvin’s grip became absolute against his thighs, rolling his own hips forcefully upward, his hardened cock making contact with Whizzer’s whenever he canted his hips, causing him to hiss and reminding them both of the material between them. Fuck, why was Marvin wearing _jeans?_

“Whizzer,” Marvin breathed against his lips, his mouth only a hair’s breadth from his own. Whizzer felt hands slip underneath his shirt and begin feeling along the soft planes of his abdomen, pinching the skin and causing Whizzer to let out a soft sound as he grazed over one of his nipples. At that, Marvin’s hand came to rest at Whizzer’s jaw as he brought their lips back together once again, the sensation so addictive it caused his chest to tighten. ****  
** **

If he’d been asked how long they remained in that position, Whizzer wouldn’t have known. The only indication it has been _too_ long was the quieting of the group, a tension rising in the fact that they were still playing the game, and yet, they appeared to have reached a standstill.  ****  
** **

Their kisses slowed until Whizzer pulled away, Marvin’s lower lip slick and caught between his teeth. He couldn’t help but take a moment to observe how debauched Marvin looked, lips pink and swollen, pupils dilated, hair dishevelled. There was no doubt he was practically a wet dream walking _—_ _literally,_ what with Whizzer having seen the exact expression he was wearing now countless times in his own dreams. 

The tension in the room spurring him into action, he sat back on Marvin’s lap, watching the way Marvin blinked, disoriented and lightheaded. Whizzer stood slowly, in fear that he’d fall as a result of both the alcohol and the intensity of the kiss.

“I hope you know your sexual history just peaked, Marvin,” Whizzer laughed lightly, regaining a nonchalant attitude as he migrated back to his seat beside Cordelia, blowing off the whole ordeal as insignificant with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”  ****  
** **

Trina was staring at Whizzer from across the room with an expression he couldn’t place. ****  
** **

_“Please_ , I’d like to see one of your booty calls get you that excited,” Marvin snorted in response, feigning indifference despite his strained voice and the tenting in his jeans telling a different story.  ****  
** **

Cordelia laid a questioning hand on his arm. He ignored her.  ****  
** **

After a few brief moments of uneasy silence, the game continued and the upbeat atmosphere in the room was once again reached. After all, most of the participants playing the game were so wasted they wouldn’t be able to remember their own _name_ tomorrow, let alone some insignificant kiss between two men.  ****  
** **

It was only after he’d had a few more drinks that Whizzer could decipher what the expression on Trina’s face had been.  ****  
** **

_Haunted_.


	9. Men Will Be Men

“This trip is _compulsory_ ,” the professor droned on, much to the class’ chagrin. “It’s an easy way to pull up your grade and makes up 20% of your overall mark. This will contribute to the project you began in pairs and will significantly influence your work.” He powered through his speech, ignoring any groans of dismay from the students.

Whizzer, himself, was indifferent towards the entire trip. He’d walked into class Monday morning just as the lesson began, pointedly avoiding Marvin’s eyes as he made his way to a seat beside Mendel. He wasn’t _avoiding_ Marvin, per se—but he had a sneaking suspicion that Marvin would make what happened Friday night a big deal—which it most definitely _wasn’t._ And if he’d jerked off to the memory of Marvin’s hands roaming his body and his voice purring in his ear numerous times over the weekend—well, that was _his_ business.

The trip, itself, was merely a weekend-long excursion into the country. The exact reasoning for the location was lost on him—something about it homing some of the greatest national landmarks of literature of all time. Normally, the idea of travelling out of the city and to the country, of all things, would horrify Whizzer; but he was feeling more restless than usual recently and needed some kind of disturbance in what was scarily become a routine for him. Turn up to class and rile up Marvin, go home and watch reruns with Cordelia, find a reasonably attractive man to screw and then make his way home to an empty bed. So, no, the trip wasn’t instantly sending a feeling of dread through his veins. That's not to say he was looking forward to it, however; he enjoyed communal showers and heating up canned goods as much as the next guy.

“This is a non-negotiable,” the professor continued, despite only holding a fraction of the class’ attention. “If you have any serious complaints, stay behind and we’ll discuss them. Class dismissed.”

He began to gather up his bags and stand up, glad to have made it through the hour. Marvin had stayed surprisingly quiet, not rising to the bait when Whizzer would make some particularly provocative comment which was so _clearly_ directed at the other man. He’d noticed the tension that would arise in Marvin’s shoulders whenever Whizzer spoke and the way his chest filled, as if taking in a particularly labouring breath. Whizzer tried to stay level-headed at the way he was acting, but couldn’t help but feel the irritation rising in him. If something as simple as a _kiss_ had caused Marvin to coil up and retreat, he wanted nothing more to do with him. Marvin was simply there to toy with, to neglect or to pick up and play with when he felt so inclined; if Marvin was starting to get _feelings_ about the matter, however, Whizzer wasn’t interested. He knew how feelings could complicate things unnecessarily and didn’t want any part in it. 

Still. It was a shame it hadn’t lasted as long as he’d hoped. Things were just starting to get interesting between them.

Content with the conclusion he’d reached, he wasted no time in making his way to the door, passing Marvin’s desk on the way out. He wasn’t oblivious to the way Marvin’s gaze had followed Whizzer, trying to catch his eye.

He had only just entered the corridor when he felt a hand on his arm. He stilled, not bothering to turn around and face the other man. 

“What do you want, Marvin?” He asked boredly, resisting the urge to yawn for added emphasis.

“Can I talk to you?” Marvin asked tentatively, moving around to face him, catching on to the fact that Whizzer clearly was not going to be the one to turn. As soon as he met Marvin’s eyes for the first time all hour, he had to refrain from making a noise of shock.

Marvin looked like he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. His skin looked sallow and his clothes were perhaps even more heinous than usual, if that was at all possible.

“You look like shit,” Whizzer deadpanned, uttering the first thing that came to mind.

“Thanks, Whizzer,” Marvin gave him a short look. “Glad to have the self-esteem boost this early on a Monday morning.”

"Well, I’m not one to lie, so.”

“Anyway, can I,” Marvin swallowed thickly. “I need to talk to you about some things.”

"So, talk,” Whizzer crossed his arms, staring disinterestedly as Marvin collected himself.

“Not here,” Marvin stated firmly.

“Well, here’s all I got, sweetheart, so too bad,” Whizzer retorted shortly.

Marvin ran a hand through his hair, irritated. He shifted from foot to foot, debating what to do. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to make an innuendo out of that. Spit it out.” Whizzer raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Wow, that one just came out.”

“Just—”, Marvin huffed, frustrated. Suddenly, his grip tightened on Whizzer’s arm and he began tugging him away.

“Hey, Marvin, what the fuck,” he complained indignantly as Marvin halted suddenly and pulled him into a supply closet. An extremely _small_ supply closet, might he add. “What are you doing?”

“I want to talk about Friday,” Marvin said quickly, cutting to the chase.

“Well, I don’t want to talk about Friday,” Whizzer crossed his arms.

“Well, I think we should.”

“Which aspect of Friday would you like to discuss with me, Marvin?” Whizzer questioned, playing dumb. 

“You know what I want to talk about.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, Marv,” he smiled sweetly. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“The kiss, Whizzer!” He exclaimed, jittery and unstuck. “I want to talk about the kiss.”

“Which kiss? You’re going to need to refresh my memory, Marvin. There were a lot of kisses that night.”

“Our kiss,” Marvin glared.

“Oh, _our_ kiss. Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Whizzer grinned.

“Are you always this obnoxious?” Marvin narrowed his eyes.

“Are you always this uptight?”

“I’m just trying to have a simple conversation with you and you’re making it extremely difficult.”

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Say what you want to say.”

Suddenly, with the offer open and ready, Marvin seemed to lose all words. He shifted, pathetically trying to conjure up any and all words with which he wanted to direct to Whizzer. 

After several moments, Whizzer began to become impatient. “Right, well, it’s clear you don’t know what you want to say to me,” he reached for the door, “so when you know what is it, well, then you can tell somebody else because I’m not interested—“

“I liked it,” Marvin blurted. Whizzer’s hand stilled on the door handle. Marvin took in a shaky breath. “I liked it. And I want to do it again.”

Whizzer raised his eyebrows. Well, wasn’t this a turn of events. “You’re saying you enjoyed the kiss,” he stated, trying to wrap his head around it. Sure, it had been physically evident that he’d enjoyed the hell out of the kiss, but he’d never thought he’d actually _admit_ it. Whizzer appraised the other man, his judgement of his character changing ever so slightly.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“And you want to do it again,” Whizzer repeated.

“I would.”

“With a man,” he clarified. Marvin’s eyelid twitched.

“With you,” he corrected.

“Yeah, sorry to break it to you, Marvin, but I _am_ a man.” Whizzer gave a condescending smile.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do it with any man. I want to do it with you.”

Whizzer furrowed his brows. “It’s still gay, you know.”

“It’s not gay if it’s just with you,” Marvin argued.

“I’m sorry, I’m finding this hard to wrap my head around,” Whizzer smiled sardonically. “You want to kiss a man. But it’s not gay. Because it’s with me.”

“I don’t have sexual thoughts about any man,” Marvin explained, frustrated. “I just have them about you. And I can’t sleep because all I see is your stupid pink lips and your stupid nice eyes whenever I close mine.”

“This is sounding suspiciously romantic.”

“I don’t want to _date_ you,” Marvin recoiled, as if Whizzer had just admitted to mass genocide. “I just want to kiss you whenever I want. And maybe more.”

“Right,” Whizzer said slowly. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to look elsewhere. I can find much less complicated lays to screw. You know, ones without girlfriends. And aren’t in the closet.” He turned to leave when he felt a hand on his dick. He stopped.

“I can make it good for you, you know,” Marvin purred, pushing him against the wall. “I know I haven’t been with a guy before but what I lack for in skill, I can make up for in enthusiasm.”

“I don’t know, Marv,” Whizzer replied uncertainly, possibly the first and only time he’d ever turn down the possibility of sex. “You’ve got baggage, and I just want to have fun.”

“I can be fun,” Marvin argued. And then his hands started to _move_ , and Whizzer realised he may have a point. “C’mon, I know you want to. When you were grinding up on me the other night, I could feel you.”

“Well, what about Trina?” He breathed, finding it difficult to form a sentence right now with Marvin stroking his dick.

“What about her?” Marvin asked, leaning in and beginning to kiss up Whizzer’s neck.

“She’s your _girlfriend_.”

“So? She doesn’t need to know,” Marvin continued, sucking at his pulse point. Whizzer’s knees almost buckled. “Besides, you were right,” he squeezed Whizzer’s length. “I could never get it up for her anyway.”

And _this_ was the reason why he shouldn’t get involved with Marvin. Because he was a mean-spirited, bad-tempered asshole who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He probably got attached too easily and there was no doubt he had a controlling streak a mile wide. There was no possible justification for giving in and taking the easy road, following what his dick had to say (rather enthusiastically, might he add), rather than his head. Cordelia was right, he mused—men really _do_ lead with their dicks.

“Stop thinking,” Marvin hummed against his neck. “This feels right. Screw the consequences.”

At that, Marvin pressed his lips to Whizzer’s, moaning into his mouth the second he felt Whizzer’s lips against his.

And right then was where Whizzer made his first mistake.

He stopped thinking.


	10. Playing Easy

“Mendel, I swear to _God_ , if you bring up Franz Kafka _one_ more fucking time, I am climbing out of this window, regardless of the fact that we are in a moving vehicle,” Whizzer snapped after having been forced to remove his eye mask yet _again._ ****  
** **

Mendel recoiled, folding his arms petulantly. “I thought you wanted to hear about it.”

“No. I don’t,” he urged emphatically. “You know what I _do_ want to do? _Sleep_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Mendel jutted out his bottom lip sullenly. “I will be waiting for your apology when you’re ready.”

Whizzer rolled his eyes, pulling his eye mask over his eyes and leaning back in his chair. Granted, the journey into the country was hardly a long one, but sitting next to Mendel for two and a half hours was making him feel like he’d been there for _days._

He’d woken up this morning, weeks after Marvin’s little _confession,_ with a sense of dread in his stomach. Not only would he be spending an entire weekend with a sexually repressed self-proclaimed heterosexual, but he’d be spending the weekend with the aforementioned asshole and his _girlfriend_. There was a limit to how far his patience could stretch and an entire weekend was pushing it.

Speaking of—he couldn’t help but creak an eye open at the sound of Trina’s voice directly behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know who was seated beside her.

"Why didn’t you come round last night?” She asked, a carefully concealed whine hidden in her voice.

“I was busy,” Marvin replied, the apathy in his tone almost stifling.

There was a slight pause. “It’s a shame.” She lowered her voice suggestively, “I was home _alone_.”

“I know, Trin,” he responded indifferently. Whizzer smiled at the disinterest in his tone.

“So why didn’t you come over?” She demanded, irritation creeping into her voice.

“I just _told_ you. I was busy.”

“Busy doing _what_?”

Whizzer didn’t need to hear the answer. Because Marvin had been busy doing _him_ last night. While the phone had been vibrating on Marvin’s desk, Trina’s name flashing on the screen, Whizzer had been on his knees, his lips stretched around Marvin’s cock. And when Trina had been pacing in her own bedroom wondering where her boyfriend was because _he said he’d be over at eight thirty_ , Marvin had had his hands wrapped around Whizzer’s wrists as he held them above his head so he could brutally fuck Whizzer into the bedroom wall.

It was moments like this that Whizzer could fully appreciate the malice in Marvin’s very core. Whizzer was too far gone, he knew that. But, _Marvin_ —he hadn’t truly known the extent to which he was willing to go to get what he wanted.

It was disgusting. He loved it.

“I was studying, now will you get off my _back_?”

He could hear a slight shift in movement from behind him. Trina’s voice was soft when she next spoke. “I’m sorry, babe. I just missed you, is all.”

The honesty in her voice seemed to evoke some sense of pity in Marvin. Impossibly, a hint of kindness crept into his tone. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. We can spend as much time together as you want on this trip,” he offered gently like the _martyr_ he was and, like the good little bitch _she_ was, Trina rolled over and took the bait.

Whizzer’s ears pricked up at the sound of lips on skin. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut.

Pushing his eye mask off, he turned to Mendel and, after apologising for his earlier offense, began to fire off numerous questions about Jewish literature.

Mendel talked the entire journey. Whizzer didn’t mind it.  ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

“We are literally in the middle of nowhere,” is the first thing Whizzer said as they arrived at their destination. Looking around at the barren, empty wasteland of a space, he certainly wasn’t far off.

“We are not in the middle of _nowhere_ , this is _nature_ ,” their professor proclaimed grandly. To Whizzer’s absolute horror, he began sliding his tent out of his bag.

“You’re shitting me. This isn’t where we’re staying,” he gaped.

“Language, Mr. Brown,” the professor reprimanded. “And _yes_ , I am serious. This will be our campsite for the weekend. So unpack your bags and we’ll meet around the campfire in half an hour or so.”

And with that, the students were left to it. The sun was already beginning to set and Whizzer felt the dread creeping into his stomach at the thought of camping in the middle of nowhere and _unironically_ congregating around a campfire. He couldn’t think of anything _worse_. He could be mauled by bears. He could be bitten by snakes. There were a whole _plethora_ of things that could happen to him.

“Where are you putting your tent?” Marvin asked, barely contained excitement in his voice—at the thought of camping out in the wilderness, or camping near Whizzer, he wasn’t going to analyse.

Whizzer scanned the area, his eyes focusing on a random patch of grass. “Uh, there.”

“I’ll put my tent next to yours,” he replied eagerly, seeming to have forgotten the fact that they’re not friends and have, in fact, _never_ been friends. He also seemed to be disregarding the fact that Trina had witnessed their anything _but_ chaste kiss just weeks before and was standing less than a meter away from them.  ****  
** **

Whizzer communicated his bafflement by frowning and pointedly flicking his eyes over to Trina. Conveniently, she didn’t notice the fleeting moment of tension. ****  
** **

Seeming to remember himself, a look of surprise crossed Marvin’s features. He quickly turned to face Trina, extending the offer to her. “Trin, where do you want to put our tent?” The pointed emphasis on _our_ did not go unnoticed by either Whizzer nor Trina.  ****  
** **

“I don’t mind camping beside Whizzer,” she answered warily, moving closer to Marvin and discreetly snaking an arm around his torso. “Whatever you want, honey.”  ****  
** **

Whizzer knew Trina wasn’t oblivious. He also knew she’d heard the glee in Marvin’s voice at the thought of camping beside Whizzer. What clinched it was the fact he knew she wouldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t help but hate her a little for it.  ****  
** **

The seemingly innocuous touches she extended to Marvin increased tenfold and the smiles she sent him became bigger and more menacing.   ****  
** **

He wanted to tell her that she could have him. That he would leave well enough alone and find some other desperate closet case to screw. That Marvin wasn’t a prize worth competing for. That Marvin was no prize at all. ****  
** **

He unpacked his bag in silence. ****  
** **

* * *

After suffering through a painful session of group therapy around the campfire, followed by a torturous hour of campfire songs, they were sent to bed due to the _early start_ they had the next morning. Not that he was complaining about being able to escape the horror that was group activities dictated by their Poetics professor, but surely college students were entitled to the trust and independence of deciding their own _bedtime_.  ****  
** **

If he was being truthful, he wasn’t sure how he’d sleep tonight. The sheer proximity between his and Marvin and Trina’s tent was already putting him on edge, the thought of being merely feet away from the man he’d been fucking and his blissfully ignorant girlfriend creating a strange sort of tension to coil tight in his gut. Not only that, the prospect of sleeping on an inflatable mattress in the literal _wilderness_ wasn’t helping the situation either.  ****  
** **

Miraculously, a mere five minute walk away was a bathroom, the only source of civilisation he’d spotted thus far, and apparently, the only amenity necessary to classify a desolate expanse of grassland a campsite. ****  
** **

Staring at his reflection in said bathroom, he finished brushing his teeth after having changed into a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Granted, he could’ve opted for something more fashionable, but the mere prospect of exposing his clean, pressed clothes to the less than glamorous campsite surroundings was far more daunting than sacrificing his dignity in wearing sweatpants for the weekend. ****  
** **

Suddenly, the latch on the door behind him slid shut and he felt warm hands on his hips. He couldn’t help but smirk and lean into Marvin’s heat, the flimsy short-sleeve shirt sending shivers up his spine. ****  
** **

“Hey,” Marvin purred, pressed closely to him from behind, resting his chin on Whizzer’s shoulder. His lips quirked as Whizzer met his eyes in the mirror.  ****  
** **

“Hey,” he raised an eyebrow suggestively. ****  
** **

“I haven’t seen these before,” Marvin murmured, sliding one hand under Whizzer’s shirt and dipping the other briefly under the waistband of his sweatpants. ****  
** **

“That’s because I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them in public,” Whizzer scoffed, enjoying the way Marvin’s eyes roamed over his body in the mirror. ****  
** **

His hand ventured further inside his sweatpants and his palm grazed teasingly over Whizzer’s clothed dick, which twitched at the contact. Marvin bit lightly at where his shoulder connected to his neck. “I like them.” ****  
** **

“Well, of course _you_ like them, Marv, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between  Manolo Blahnik and _Converse_ ,” he sneered, rolling his head back and feeling his dick thicken ever so slightly at the attention. ****  
** **

“You know, you ought to play nice with me, I can make things very interesting for _you,_ ” Marvin said, both hands moving to the waistband of his sweatpants and beginning to push them down his thighs, leaving Whizzer in his boxer briefs, his arousal tenting the fabric. Whizzer felt his dick beginning to throb, the image of his erection standing stark under his underwear whilst both he and Marvin watched in the mirror an undeniably arousing image.  ****  
** **

“Oh, yeah?” Whizzer bit his lip. “Show me.” ****  
** **

At his words, Marvin didn’t hesitate in rolling the material down his thighs, freeing his straining erection and relieving some of the pressure. Whizzer was perhaps the last person in the world to flush at something as _ordinary_ and _mundane_ as the human anatomy, _his_ in particular, but he couldn’t deny that watching himself in the mirror, his cock hard and flushed at the head, his skin heating up and his eyes dark with lust, was downright _sinful_. He glanced at Marvin in the mirror to find his tongue wetting his lips, his arousal evident from his hooded eyes and dazed expression. ****  
** **

“You’re so pretty,” Marvin uttered quietly, almost subconsciously. “Christ, look at you.”

“Am I going to have to get myself off?” Whizzer responded impatiently, uncertain as to why he _still_ wasn’t being touched. “No big deal, I’m sure my hand is as good as anybody else’s,” he taunted, moving his hand towards his untouched dick.

Marvin’s iron grip on his wrist stopped him. “I’m going to be the only one touching you,” he bit out, and he sounded so _sure_ and _confident_ that Whizzer began to worry the promise was an indefinite one. They had never discussed the concept of fidelity, but at this point, Whizzer assumed it was redundant that they were anything but monogamous, Marvin in a committed relationship and Whizzer in a committed relationship with casual sex. It wouldn’t surprise him that Marvin was the possessive kind, that he wanted to be the _only_ one playing with his toys. ****  
** **

His thoughts were cut off by the feeling of Marvin’s hand wrapping around his dick. The addition of friction, _any_ friction, was a welcome relief, and Whizzer couldn’t help letting out a breathy moan, his eyes fluttering closed and his head tilting backwards.

“You like that?” Marvin breathed against his neck, stroking Whizzer from base to tip in a loose hold. The touch felt undeniably good, but it wasn’t _enough_. He needed Marvin’s hand tighter, closer. He needed more friction and he needed _speed_ , above all. Pointedly, he began to roll his hips into Marvin’s fist. Marvin’s movements suddenly halted and he placed a hand on Whizzer’s hip, restricting his movements.

To this day, Whizzer would deny ever whining. Marvin chuckled smugly, the sound immediately feeding his ego—as if it wasn’t inflated _enough_. “Baby, not so impatient,” he cooed, and Whizzer wanted to strangle him. “We’ll get there.”

And it was so incredibly _difficult_ to not buck into Marvin’s less than satisfying hold, a feat for Whizzer considering his deep-seated desire to contradict _everything_ that came out of Marvin’s mouth, and the overwhelming physical urge to cant his hips towards the only source of friction available. Marvin merely continued to stroke his entire length, nowhere _near_ the tight heat he was craving, the power he was holding over Whizzer going straight to his head and eliciting a deep resentment in Whizzer because he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, he knew _exactly_ the effect he was having on him and he was _revelling_ in it. He creaked an eye open to observe Marvin’s facial expression to find him engrossed in the way the flushed head of Whizzer’s cock disappeared through his grip, his mouth open slightly and breathing deeply.

While it was all well and good _Marvin_ was enjoying himself, Whizzer felt the need for _more_ above all else. To move things along, Whizzer began to grind into Marvin from behind, one of his hands moving to feel along the length of his thigh, eventually move up to Marvin’s own cock to _squeeze_ it—not too hard so as to seriously _injure_ the man, but just on the right side of painful. Marvin whimpered pathetically at the friction, his grip subconsciously tightening around Whizzer’s dick and causing him to let out a soft purr at the feeling.

 _"Look_ at you, Whizzer,” Marvin breathed, beginning to pick up the pace, much to Whizzer’s satisfaction. He was practically _writhing_ at the feeling, the sensation of Marvin mercilessly pumping his dick overwhelming. “Such a pretty boy,” he bit his lip. “Fuck, I want you.”

Whizzer uncharacteristically obliged, the euphoria Marvin was providing him with causing him to forget himself.  ****  
** **

The sight made him impossibly harder.  ****  
** **

Marvin was watching him in the mirror, his eyes glazed over as the purpling head of Whizzer’s cock disappeared and reappeared through his fist, the veins in his dick protruding. And _Whizzer_ —fuck, he looked downright _debauched_ , his cheeks flushed and eyes wild with lust. Marvin sped up the pace all the more so, his fist tight around Whizzer’s dick and Whizzer felt a pressure starting to build in his abdomen.  ****  
** **

“You see why I couldn’t resist you?” Marvin muttered, breathless. “You’re something else.” ****  
** **

“Oh, _Marv_ …” Whizzer let out breathy moan to which he’d _never_ own to afterwards.  ****  
** **

“You’re so good for me, Whizzer,” Marvin encouraged dazedly, his face overcome by his own arousal. “Look at me when you come baby, I want to see you,” he demanded and Whizzer _hated_ how he couldn’t seem to hold on any longer, retaining the hope that he still had the power to deny Marvin. Not a moment later, he let out a choked sound as he abruptly finished into the palm of Marvin’s hand, powerless to do anything but watch the other man, cheeks flushed and short of breath.  ****  
** **

Boneless, he leaned against Marvin for a few moments, the other man a solid weight as he collected himself. He’d almost forgotten about Marvin’s own arousal until he’d cleaned off his hand and had then proceeded to unsubtlety begin grinding his hips against Whizzer’s behind. ****  
** **

Turning away from the mirror, Whizzer faced Marvin and wordlessly began unzipping his pants, a small, satisfied smile gracing his face from the release of tension.  ****  
** **

It was a different story, however, when Marvin wrapped his hands around Whizzer’s shoulders and attempted to encourage him to his knees. ****  
** **

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m getting on my knees in a _communal bathroom_.”  ****  
** **

* * *

That night, he was awakened by the sound of his tent unzipping and a body slipping under the covers of his duvet. ****  
** **

“What are you doing?” Whizzer murmured quietly, his eyes remaining closed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Marvin whispered back at him.

In his half-asleep mode, his brain frantically attempted to conjure up any sort of sense as to why Marvin was here. “You need to go back. Trina is next door.”

“I will, I just…” he muttered quietly. A second later he felt Marvin’s arm tentatively reach out and touch his side. He didn’t move, which Marvin took as a sign of encouragement as he shifted closer.

“You’re cold,” Whizzer murmured.

“Am I?” Marvin hummed quietly.

After a beat of silence, Marvin moved closer, so Whizzer’s back was completely pressed to his front. Whizzer wouldn’t admit it, but it felt nice to have a body beside him, and although Marvin’s skin was cold, warmth spread through Whizzer’s body at his proximity. Whizzer relaxed into Marvin’s frame, moulding his body perfectly to Marvin’s.

Throwing caution to the wind, Marvin wrapped his arms around Whizzer’s torso and pulled him closer, so close that it was difficult to make out where his body ended and Marvin’s began.  ****  
** **

It felt so comfortable Whizzer had began to drift off until a thought occurred to him in the back of his mind. “Trina will be wondering where you are.” ****  
** **

“She was asleep when I left her. I’ll just go back before she wakes up,” Marvin whispered, his voice sleep-addled and his words slurred together. ****  
** **

“Okay,” Whizzer accepted, settling into Marvin’s hold to sleep. ****  
** **

He was on the precipice of sleep when he felt Marvin’s arms tighten around him. “I’m glad I took the Poetics class.” ****  
** **

Whizzer didn’t even need to think about his answer, the words slipping out before his brain could process them. “Me too.” ****  
** **

And the worst thing was, his words felt like the truth. ****  
** **

A moment later, he thought he felt Marvin’s lips press to his shoulder. He was asleep before he could tell.


	11. Family Charades

Waking up in an empty bed was no surprise to Whizzer. ****  
** **

Nor was walking outside his tent to find Marvin and Trina sitting on camp chairs, dotingly feeding each other grapefruit segments. What _was_ a surprise, however, was the _sickening_ look Marvin was sending Trina from his chair to hers. At that, Whizzer stopped dead in his tracks. ****  
** **

He’d felt _good_ this morning. He’d slept better than usual despite his bed practically verging on the temperature of a sweat box—seriously, Marvin emanated heat to the extent of being a living breathing _radiator_. And as he’d exited his tent—for once—he’d felt unguarded, carefree. He attributed the bashful glance he’d sent in Marvin’s direction to that, too—Christ, Whizzer didn’t _do_ bashful. However, the small quirk of his lips as he looked up was abruptly cut off by the expression on Marvin’s face. ****  
** **

He wasn’t looking at Whizzer at all, not even _close_. He had his head tilted lovingly towards _her_ , that fucking smile of his that exposed _far_ too much of his gums on full display and the _look_ in his eyes—it was unlike anything Whizzer had ever seen. It was _warmth_ and _familiarity_ and _contentedness_ to an extent he’d never witnessed on Marvin’s cynical face. Whizzer didn’t think he’d ever seen his brow without that perpetual crease denting it. His was simply not a face made to hold anything but bitterness and slyness and irritation and frustration—and was that _all_ Whizzer? He’d never seen him so enamoured—reverent, even. Whizzer felt a lump form in his throat. ****  
** **

Had he not been spotted by Trina, he would’ve immediately ducked back into his tent at the sight because it was _too_ damn early for this shit. ****  
** **

“Whizzer, come sit with us! We’re just eating breakfast,” Trina called invitingly, moving her chair so the three of them could orient themselves in a circle. He had to refrain from rolling his eyes—because that’s _really_ what he wanted to do, eat breakfast with the couple of the year and observe their _eyes_ and their _smiles_ and was it _really_ too late to retreat back into his tent? ****  
** **

Despite every fibre of his being protesting against the action, he plastered on a smile and pulled up a chair opposite the pair. He pretended not the notice how Marvin still hadn’t met his eyes. The worst thing was it didn’t even seem to be _intentional_. The only thing Whizzer hated more than being deliberately ignored was being _unconsciously_ ignored—at least the former involved some feeling other than _indifference_. He wasn’t used to being brushed aside. He decided in that moment he abhorred it. Fixated on seemingly innocuous gestures, a casual brush of Marvin's hand to her thigh or a tender caress to her cheek began to read as _I'm sorry_ and _forgive me for sneaking out of our tent last night and slipping into bed with another man_. 

“How’d you sleep?” Trina asked, cutting off his dangerous ruminating. He met her gaze, wondering if there was anything to her behind that saccharine smile, if she held any more depth than what the perpetually accepting expression on her face lead him to believe. He wondered if she had thoughts of her own. He wondered what her thoughts were about him. Did she know she was second best? Did she know she would _always_ fall short as long as Whizzer was in the picture? Glancing back at Marvin's tender smile, he wasn't sure even he believed that anymore. He dug his nails into the chair, wondering if his frustration would work like electricity, flowing through his body and seeping into the ground. He wished it would. He wished he wasn't frustrated at all. Above all, he wished Marvin would stop making that _look_ —that look that said Trina's love _wasn't_ unrequited and, in fact, it was _Whizzer_ who was second best. 

“Too hot,” he replied, bitter now, wanting a fight, wanting an argument, wanting any form of _attention_. And finally— _finally_ —Marvin’s eyes flicked up to his, surprised at Whizzer’s abrupt prickliness. _Good_. “My tent felt claustrophobic as fuck.” ****  
** **

Trina opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by Marvin, his tone bemused and a little taken off guard. “Well, maybe you should’ve taken your duvet off if it was bothering you so much.” ****  
** **

“Thanks for the advice, Marv. I will in the future,” he replied coldly, facing away from him. And yes, this is what he wanted—wasn't it? After all, fighting was, above all, what they excelled at. He felt at odds with himself. What _did_ he want? Certainly not for Marvin to be giving _him_ that look. ** **  
** **

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be much happier tonight then,” Marvin stood suddenly, utterly confused as he attempted to catch Whizzer's eye. As if Whizzer would give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. But—would it be satisfaction? He felt he no longer understood Marvin any more than he understood himself. Of _course_ Marvin would look at Trina like that, she was his _girlfriend_. Repeating the statement in his head did nothing to ease his confusion. How was it that Marvin could spend an entire night with a person only to roll over in the morning and look at somebody else like _that?_ Whizzer could feel his irritation rising: Marvin was supposed to be _his_ to torture and tease and play with—and _his_ , alone. 

“Thank you for the breakfast, baby,” Marvin bent to give Trina a lingering kiss, flicking his eyes once more to Whizzer’s before walking away without another word. ****  
** **

Watching Marvin’s retreating figure with narrowed eyes, Whizzer reflected upon the fact that it hadn’t even been twelve hours since Marvin had been pumping his cock with his fist and murmuring sweet nothings in Whizzer’s ear about how _good_ he was, how _pretty_ he was—more importantly, it hadn’t even been twelve hours since he’d slipped under Whizzer’s covers and held him tight against his chest throughout the night, his nose tucked into the crook of Whizzer’s neck as he exhaled softly into his hair. ****  
** **

He would’ve liked to say it hadn’t bothered him, the reminder that _Trina_ was his girlfriend and Whizzer was _truly_ nobody significant to him. After all, the man himself was hardly special—he was replaceable at best—Whizzer barely _knew_ the man. And just because Whizzer, too, enjoyed that smile of his, much too big and unabashed to be regarded attractive by any means—well, he said it himself—it _wasn’t_ attractive, right? And _just_ because Marvin had ridiculously soft hands to _tease_ and _caress_ just right—he could replace those things with anybody, right? And granted—Marvin had a little more bite in him than most and would admittedly rather _die_ than shy away from confrontation—but _surely_ a trait like that was as common as they come. So, yes, there was no real reason for it to bother Whizzer. He just wished the newly acquired weight on his chest could figure that out too. Suffice it to say, Marvin could sleep in his own bed from now on if this lump in his throat refused to ease up. ****  
** **

Whizzer knew he wasn’t being rational about the matter—it was hardly like Marvin was the only man _he_ was sleeping with—but he’d never particularly excelled at _rational._ He could be fun and sexy and challenging and even intelligent at times if he was really pushing the boat out—but rational? Not in his vocabulary.

“Who pissed in his cereal?” Mendel joked, sitting in Marvin’s now vacant seat. Trina immediately brightened at his presence. ****  
** **

“Whizzer, apparently,” she smiled. ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes, immediately standing up, because Trina and Mendel was _not_ a trio he wanted to be party to. “When _isn’t_ it Whizzer?” ****  
** **

And _fuck_ Marvin. What right did _he_ have to make Whizzer start overthinking the way he was? Whizzer didn’t _do_ overthinking.  ****  
** **

A lot of the time, Whizzer did no thinking _at all._ ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

“What’s up with you?” Marvin asked the second their professor had paired them into their groups to complete their project. The task at hand was to examine the terrain to get in touch with their _inner_ poetry. Personally, Whizzer just figured the activity was to keep the group busy whilst he snaked off into the nearby bar to make up for the fact he was essentially babysitting a group of young adults for the entire weekend. He and Marvin had immediately elected to walk into the forest, not needing verbality to agree that whenever they were alone together, seclusion was always preferable.  ****  
** **

“What do you mean?” ****  
** **

“You’re acting weird with me,” Marvin said as they entered the trees. “Like you’re mad at me.” ****  
** **

“I’m always mad at you,” Whizzer said honestly. ****  
** **

“True,” Marvin conceded. “But it’s not the same. Usually you’re angry at me but you still want to jump my bones. Right now, it’s like you’re annoyed with me and you don’t even want to be near me.” ****  
** **

“Can't I want both?" Whizzer smirked. “I’d have half a mind to gag you when we screw. Maybe then you wouldn’t get on my nerves as much as you do and I still get consecutive mind-blowing orgasms. It's really a win-win situation."

“Real fucking kinky, Whizzer,” Marvin rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.” Wrapping a hand around Whizzer’s arm, he pulled him onto a nearby bench where he laid a hand on his thigh, a subconscious gesture meant to ensure Whizzer wouldn’t move. Spitefully, Whizzer moved his leg away from the touch. ****  
** **

“Oh, this is new,” Marvin said, irritation creeping into his tone. “Whizzer Brown not opening up his legs at the drop of a hat.” ****  
** **

“Keep talking like that and you won’t see the insides of my legs again,” Whizzer warned, an empty threat if he’d ever heard one. ****  
** **

“I’ll be the only guy in the tri-state area without the luxury,” Marvin growled. ****  
** **

“At least you’ll still have Trina,” Whizzer snapped, unable to resist the jibe. ****  
** **

“Right. She doesn’t quite satisfy me like you do but she gets the job done alright,” he laughed and Whizzer looked away. He was sick of hearing about her. There was a pregnant pause—an abnormality in their usual snappy retorts, and a blatant sign that something was awry. “She would’ve given me head in that communal bathroom, too,” Marvin continued experimentally, baiting Whizzer, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. Whizzer remained silent. “That doesn’t bother you… Does it?”  ****  
** **

“What?”  ****  
** **

“Trina… Seeing us together…” Marvin trailed off. “That’s not an issue, right?” ****  
** **

Whizzer scoffed, a choked noise that sounded forced even to his own ears. “Don’t flatter yourself, Marv, you don’t mean that much to me.” ****  
** **

In his peripheral vision, Whizzer could see the grin creeping onto Marvin’s face, a sly, cunning thing, and in that moment, he knew he’d been caught out in a lie.  ****  
** **

“Whiz, you’re jealous,” he taunted, the glee in his voice almost palpable. ****  
** **

“Jealous? Of Trina? Cut me some slack,” Whizzer sneered, still refusing to look at the other man as a flush crept up his neck. ****  
** **

“Oh, _Whizzer_ ,” Marvin grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging Whizzer to stand in front of him. He pulled him by the hips, taking Whizzer off guard as he fell into a straddling position in Marvin’s lap, much to the latter’s satisfaction. “You have nothing to worry about, you’re better than her in every way,” he smiled, delighted at this newfound discovery. ****  
** **

Whizzer rested his hands on Marvin’s chest, casting a fleeting look behind him to check they were concealed by the trees. “You don’t need to reassure me, I _know_ I’m better than her, she’s no competition to me.” Marvin’s growing smile made it clear his intention was not being conveyed the way he wanted it to be. “Not that it _is_ a competition—I mean, Christ, Marv, you don’t need to worry about _me_ getting attached. I’m hardly the one vying for your affection,” he urged, utterly baffled as to why he sounded like he was lying.  ****  
** **

“Oh, baby.” Marvin slipped his hands under Whizzer’s shirt, splaying his fingers over his bare back and pulling him closer. He smiled up at Whizzer before placing a kiss on his neck. “You’re sexy.” He pressed his lips to the underside of Whizzer’s jaw. Whizzer couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on his face as he rolled his eyes. “And mean, and spiteful.” He darted his tongue out and lathed at the area, smiling still despite his ministrations against Whizzer’s neck. Whizzer let his head fall backwards, giving Marvin easy access to his skin. “You’re sarcastic,” he purred against Whizzer’s ear, “and brilliant, and clever.” He moved his mouth upwards so he was face to face with Whizzer, his eyes alight with _something_. He murmured against Whizzer’s lips, “and who would call me out on my shit if you weren’t around?”  ****  
** **

Whizzer came to brace his hands on either side of Marvin’s head, resting his elbows on his shoulders as he slid his hands into his hair. “Careful, Marv,” he murmured. “You’re starting to sound like you actually care.” ****  
** **

“Shut up and kiss me.” ****  
** **

Whizzer gave a wicked smile, feeling lighter than he had in days. “But don’t you want to hear how _clever_ I can be, how this _spiteful_ little mouth can be used to be _brilliant_ and _sarcastic_ and—” ****  
** **

He was cut off by Marvin’s lips against his own, mumbling in between kisses, “you’re going to be the death of me.” ****  
** **

* * *

That night, he was yet again awoken by the telltale sound of his tent unzipping.  ****  
** **

“Whiz,” Marvin whispered as he entered. Whizzer huffed as he creaked one eye open. “Whizzer, wake up.” ****  
** **

“I’m awake, asshole, you’re like a bull in a china shop,” Whizzer yawned. He could see Marvin’s grin gleaming in the pale moonlight. ****  
** **

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” ****  
** **

Whizzer lifted his head from the pillow, resting his elbows on the mattress. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Marvin, are you insane?” ****  
** **

“What, you scared?” He taunted, his eyes glinting in the dark. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he grinned.  ****  
** **

“Like _hell_ you’ll protect me, I can protect my own damn self,” Whizzer grumbled, regretfully leaving his _warm_ bed and slipping on a pair of shoes. They ducked out of the tent, Marvin waiting patiently as Whizzer slowly zipped it shut to avoid making too much noise. ****  
** **

They set off away from the tents, Whizzer slapping Marvin’s hand away when he tried to grab Whizzer’s. ****  
** **

“What?” Marvin questioned mock-innocently. “I just want to make sure you don’t get lost. You’re so defenseless without me, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

Whizzer forced himself not to roll his eyes at the comment, knowing Marvin was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him. “The only person I’d need protection from is you, jackass.” ****  
** **

To that, Marvin had no response, finally settling onto a patch of grass and pulling Whizzer by the arm to sit by him. Suspiciously, he began rifling through his pockets. ****  
** **

“Is this when you whip out a knife and list off how many people you’ve killed?” Whizzer teased. “Oh, no, that’s right. They kill themselves after listening to you drone on about our current economic crisis.”  ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a short look before slipping a tin out of his pocket. Whizzer squinted his eyes in confusion as Marvin opened the tin—to reveal a _joint_ of all things. ****  
** **

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting,” Whizzer blinked. ****  
** **

Marvin looked up at Whizzer, grinning. “Check it out—found this in the old man’s _tent_.” ****  
** **

Whizzer gaped at him, incredulous. “This is our _professor’s?”_ ****  
** **

“Dude, I know,” Marvin responded gleefully, pulling out a lighter. “Last thing I was expecting.” ****  
** **

“What the fuck were you in his tent for anyway?” Whizzer asked, utterly bemused. ****  
** **

“Why do you _think?”_   ****  
** **

“Trying to get some action?” Whizzer grinned as Marvin narrowed his eyes. “Extra credit, Marv.” ****  
** **

“I don’t sleep with guys, Whiz,” Marvin responded quietly. “You know that.” ****  
** **

“I know what you try and tell yourself,” Whizzer quipped, thoroughly accustomed to how _deeply_ in denial Marvin was.  ****  
** **

“I was rifling through his bags looking for a hip flask or another so we could have some fun, when I found something even _better_ ,” he held the lighter up. “Here, cup your hands around it,” Marvin instructed, trying and failing to light the damn thing in the light breeze. Whizzer did so accordingly, the end glowing amber as Marvin breathed in. ****  
** **

After a few moments, he passed it to Whizzer, the latter taking the joint between his two fingers and failing to recall the last time he’d done this. He let a moment of silence fall between them, watching the smoke curl upwards as he exhaled. “I didn’t know you smoked pot,” Whizzer remarked offhandedly. ****  
** **

“I don’t really,” Marvin responded honestly, laying back and propping himself up on his elbows. Whizzer mimicked the movement so they were side by side. “I used to do it a lot more but Trina doesn’t like it.” ****  
** **

Whizzer let the words hang in the air, not particularly wanting Marvin to expand upon what Trina _did_ and _didn’t_ like. “Not for nothing, Marv, but I assumed you’d be a nerd through-and-through. Head of the school council, mathlete, assistant librarian. The whole kit and caboodle.”  ****  
** **

Marvin chuckled from beside him, coughing slightly as he inhaled. “What a glowing perception you have of me.” ****  
** **

Whizzer kicked his leg lightly. “Hey, I dig nerds. You know what they say.” ****  
** **

“No, Whizzer, what do they say?” Marvin humoured him, his voice heavy with mirth.  ****  
** **

“Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets,” Whizzer grinned, turning his head to meet the other man’s eyes. Whizzer went to take the joint but was intercepted by Marvin sliding it directly into the latter’s mouth, his fingers pressed to his lips. Marvin watched with hooded eyes as Whizzer inhaled, his lip catching on Marvin’s finger as he pulled his hand away.  ****  
** **

“You’re not far off,” Marvin looked down after a moment, a small smile on his lips. “I was chair of the chess club.”  ****  
** **

“No,” Whizzer grinned, his eyes creasing at the edges. ****  
** **

Marvin refrained from toothily grinning like he suddenly felt the urge to, the smile on Whizzer’s face infectious as hell. “Yep." ****  
** **

Whizzer turned to look back in front of him, the smile lingering on his face. He paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know how to play chess.” ****  
** **

“I can teach you,” Marvin offered hastily. He coughed at the eagerness in his tone. “I mean, if you want.” ****  
** **

“If you _must_ ,” Whizzer rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. “I just know how that’s going to pan out. We’re going to end up fighting because you’re being condescending as hell and then I’m going to get pissed because you’re treating me like a child and we’re both going to storm off, only to come right back once we’ve cooled off and fuck against the kitchen counter.” ****  
** **

“Sounds about right.” Marvin muttered, taking a toke from the almost completely diminished joint, wistfully continuing, “who knew we were so predictable.”   ** **  
** **

“We’re men, Marvin,” Whizzer stressed. “We _are_ predictable.” ****  
** **

“You’re not predictable to me,” Marvin admitted. “I never know what the fuck you’re going to do.”  ****  
** **

An unexpected warm feeling blossomed in his chest at the thought that he could still surprise the man—or it may have just been the pot. He paused, acquiescing, “I guess I wasn’t expecting you to confess your undying love to me in the supply closet a few weeks ago. That sure as hell took me off guard."

“Surely you must’ve known,” Marvin said incredulously. “ _Surely_ you must’ve realised I’d been rushing out of that class for weeks to jerk off in the bathroom after you’d chew on a pen in front of me or your shirt would ride up a little by accident. Christ, Whizzer, I was _always_ staring at you. No—for me, that was a long time coming.” ****  
** **

Whizzer blinked at the admission. He hadn’t realised that at _all_ —he’d always assumed Marvin had exited the class so rapidly because he was so pissed off that he simply couldn’t stand being in Whizzer’s presence another moment. “I didn’t know that.” ****  
** **

A few moments transpired, both men lost in thought. After a while, Marvin stubbed the joint into the ground. “Trina’s been getting suspicious lately, you know.” Whizzer glanced at the other man to find him staring out at the vast expanse of land, his expression strangely neutral. “She thinks I’m not attracted to her anymore.” ****  
** **

“But you’re not,” Whizzer said simply. ****  
** **

“I know that, but _she_ doesn’t.”  ****  
** **

“Break up with her, then,” Whizzer offered the solution without thinking. He rushed to rectify the statement. “Or don’t. I don’t give a shit.” ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a meaningful look, making it plainly evident that he wasn’t falling for Whizzer’s bullshit. “I can’t do that,” he said softly, which begged the question as to _why._ Whizzer opened his mouth to ask exactly that but was cut off as Marvin continued. “I’ll just think of you while I’m screwing her—I can’t get it up otherwise.” ** **  
** **

And just when he thought they were getting along, Marvin would say something like _that_.  ****  
** **

“Do whatever you want, Marvin. It really doesn’t concern me,” he said emotionlessly, standing up. Marvin’s eyes widened in alarm as Whizzer started to leave. ****  
** **

“What are you doing? Come lay with me, Whizzer,” Marvin called. Whizzed ignored him. ****  
** **

“Go lay with your fucking girlfriend, Marvin,” he replied hotly over his shoulder, leaving Marvin alone under the moon.


	12. While I Put The Steak In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka whizzer going down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, sorry, this is LONG  
> it's still good tho (i'm hoping?)  
> anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter! leave a comment if u do! x

What evolved in the following weeks was the last thing Whizzer had expected—or wanted, for that matter. Settling between them like dust was something so _disgustingly_ comfortable, so _effortlessly_ easy to fall into it took him completely by surprise. Something that—when recognised—Whizzer knew immediately had to come to a _stop_. ****  
** **

_Domesticity_. ****  
** **

What he’d had with Marvin slowly began to mutate—so gradually that the only indication that anything had been changing at _all_ was when the realisation struck that _everything_ had _already_ changed.  ****  
** **

The first time it came to Whizzer’s awareness was a month after their field trip into the country.  ****  
** **

Marvin—against all odds—had decided to host a _poker night_ in accordance to Whizzer’s admission the previous week that he had little to _no_ knowledge regarding the game. ****  
** **

“You don’t know how to play poker?” Marvin had asked from in between Whizzer’s thighs, breathless as he stared up at the latter with wide, astonished eyes.  ****  
** **

Whizzer had sunk his fingers into Marvin’s hair, subtlety encouraging his mouth back to where he wanted it—no, _needed_ it. “What’s the big deal? I never learned how to play. Don’t look at me like that, Marv, you didn’t know how to give head up until a few weeks ago. Speaking _of_ ,” he hinted, wrapping his own hand around his cock and pressing the head of it to Marvin’s lips. ****  
** **

“I just can’t believe it. Everyone I know can play poker,” Marvin had continued, oblivious to Whizzer’s efforts. Whizzer groaned, collapsing back onto the bed. “That settles it. Next week, I’m hosting a poker night,” he declared as if he’d solved one of the world’s greatest dilemmas; educating Whizzer Brown on an inarguably _essential_ skill life had to offer.  ****  
** **

Whizzer propped himself up on his elbows frustratedly, his arousal fading with the absence of Marvin’s lips wrapped around him. “If I agree, will you shut the fuck up and blow me?” ****  
** **

At that, Marvin nodded enthusiastically.  ****  
** **

Whizzer held back the silly little grin that threatened to spread across his face at his eagerness. “Jesus, you’re pathetic. _Fine_ ,” he let out a large gust of air in feigned exasperation. ****  
** **

“You won’t regret it,” Marvin vowed, grinning and finally— _finally_ —wrapping his lips around Whizzer’s dick, causing him to collapse back onto the bed all over again. ****  
** **

As a result, one week later, Whizzer had just stepped into Marvin’s apartment and was _very_ much still dreading the poker night. What was worse was the fact that their entire group had been invited, making it a whole _ordeal—_ Whizzer simply had no interest in card games and if he _had_ , he would’ve learnt to play poker, _himself._ ** **  
****

“Took you long enough to get here,” Marvin mumbled against his lips, pinning Whizzer to the front door. “Where were you?” ****  
** **

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Whizzer mocked. ****  
** **

Marvin pulled back, glaring. “Whizzer.” ****  
** **

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I was out lingerie shopping with Cordelia. She’s really going all out on this _seduce and wed Charlotte_ operation.” ****  
** **

Pleased with Whizzer’s response, the playful edge returned to Marvin’s eyes. “I’ll bet. Get anything for yourself?” ****  
** **

Taken aback, a smirk crept onto Whizzer’s face. “That something you’d like?” At the flicker of interest he glimpsed in his gaze, he continued teasingly, “want me to play dress up for you?” ****  
** **

Marvin hummed, aroused and amused in equal measure. “White lace.” And how on _Earth_ the man could still believe he was the straight-laced heterosexual he imagined himself to be baffled Whizzer to no end. Jesus Christ, he wanted him to dress up in _lingerie_.  ****  
** **

“Because I’m so pure and virginal?” Whizzer grinned, slipping out from under Marvin’s grip and strolling into the kitchen. “Surprisingly apt seeing as I haven’t screwed anyone today.” ****  
** **

“Congratulations, Whizzer—you want a gold star?” Marvin followed, opening up a bottle of white wine from across the room and pouring two glasses. “You’re one step closer to monogamy.”  ****  
** **

Whizzer snorted, the vile word eliciting the involuntary response. “You _wish_.”  ****  
** **

“Yeah—I _do_ wish,” Marvin rolled his eyes, as if they hadn’t already had this conversation dozens of times.  ****  
** **

“You know, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer with how much you worry about my sexual activity,” he remarked casually, taking a glass from Marvin.  ****  
** **

“I’d rather have an ulcer than an STI.” ****  
** **

“Please, _I_ am sexually responsible. I don’t have an STI,” he said—as if the sheer prospect was _so_ beyond the valley of absurd he could hardly fathom it.  ****  
** **

And despite justifying his aversion to Whizzer’s lack of fidelity as being due to _health_ reasons, the reality of the situation resided in the fact that Marvin was _possessive_ , and the idea of not being able to truly call Whizzer _his_ was slowly driving him insane.  ****  
** **

That didn’t bother Whizzer in the slightest—if anything, it was an incentive to sleep around _more._    ****  
** **

“Plus,” he continued, “even if I were sleeping with _hundreds_ of men a week— _you_ , my friend,” he ran a taunting finger down Marvin’s chest, “have no say in the matter.” ****  
** **

“Jewish prerogative, Whizzer. I don’t share,” Marvin retorted simply, as if it _were_ simple, as if Whizzer would roll over and abide by his words at the drop of a hat simply because _he’d_ uttered them. He wondered if the arrogant front would ever cease to exist, revealing what Marvin truly was: an emotionally and sexually repressed Jewish homosexual living in New York City in his early twenties. ****  
** **

“Spoken like a true convict committing first degree murder against his promiscuous girlfriend,” Whizzer teased, taking a sip of his wine as he leant against the kitchen counter, long legs crossed in front of him. “And talk about a double _standard_. You’re practically married _off_ —that’s _so_ much worse.”  ****  
** **

“How is that worse?” Marvin exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “We don’t even have sex!” ****  
** **

“Not for lack of effort on both your parts,” Whizzer snorted, making his way over to the fridge to retrieve a fillet steak and a packet of vegetables.  ****  
** **

Had he known a few months ago that he’d be in Marvin’s kitchen on a Friday night making the two of them _dinner_ , of all things, he wouldn’t have believed it. He didn’t even make dinner in his _own_ apartment, for Christ’s sake—though that came to pass through Cordelia’s penchant for cooking (or burning, as some might call it) and how they so rarely had _anything_ in their refrigerator.  ****  
** **

It had started a couple of weeks ago when he’d been in Marvin’s apartment alone, waiting for the other man to arrive so he could screw him senseless like he’d promised _hours_ before. He was horny as fuck and could only derive so much pleasure from lounging around nude in Marvin’s apartment whilst he wasn’t there to enjoy it. He’d idly opened the fridge and plucked a few items to conjure up a meal for himself because, damn it, if he wasn’t going to experience any _sexual_ fulfilment tonight, he may as well experience fulfilment from other—more _reliable_ —sources. ****  
** **

Marvin had walked in to find Whizzer at the stove, naked from head to toe, making something that vaguely resembled Carbonara. The fact that it had tasted like shaped and stretched plastic in a cream sauce didn’t seem to matter to Marvin—the image of Whizzer, naked, cooking in _his_ apartment, making _him_ his dinner fulfilled any ideals Marvin had of a housewife.  ****  
** **

That night he’d fucked Whizzer harder than he ever had before. Whizzer had cooked every night since. ****  
** **

“How was that lunch today, anyway?” He idly questioned, recalling Marvin’s lunch date Trina had scheduled for the pair of them.  ****  
** **

Marvin groaned, taking a seat at the table as Whizzer began peeling the carrots. “Don’t remind me. She has this terrible affinity—I think she actually _enjoys_ it when I fall asleep listening to her talk. About how beneficial quinoa is. The health advantages of taking a provitamin every day. The beauty of arugula.” ****  
** **

Whizzer bit his lip to refrain from laughing as he tipped the carrots and mange tout into the frying pan. Without butter. Marvin cringed as Whizzer started sprinkling cinnamon and bicarbonate of soda on the vegetables. Trying in vain not to intervene—lest Whizzer force him to make his _own_ dinner—Marvin distracted himself by flicking on the CD player and pressing play. ****  
** **

The familiar opening made Whizzer simultaneously cringe and chuckle. “Really, Marvin? Dire Straits?” ****  
** **

“What’s wrong with Dire Straits? Dire Straits are good,” Marvin protested, causing Whizzer to laugh. Moving to stand beside him, Marvin rested his elbows on the counter, discreetly watching Whizzer further desecrate perfectly good food. ****  
** **

“Dire Straits are _lame_ ,” Whizzer chuckled, adding pine nuts—to the _steak_. ****  
** **

Marvin huffed, feigning annoyance. “And what would you prefer, Your Highness? Avril Lavigne? _Taylor Swift?”_

“Way to pigeonhole the entire of the queer community, Marv.” He rolled his eyes playfully, further blackening the meat and finally, _mercifully_ turning off the stove. “I’m not even going to mention the whole pot calling the kettle black element of that. You’re welcome.” ****  
** **

“How thoughtful of you,” Marvin said sardonically, loading the two plates with food and delivering them to the table.  ****  
** **

Taking their seats opposite one another, it seemed almost laughable how their evenings had slowly began to morph into a choreographed dance, of sorts—one in which they’d engaged in every night for the past few weeks. They sat facing one another. Chewed. Swallowed. Smiled tightly, suppressing the urge to gag.  ****  
** **

The idea left a slightly acidic taste in Whizzer’s mouth, a reminder that Whizzer was not made for _routines_ or _patterns_ —that Whizzer was made for spontaneous sex, cold nights alone in bed and arguments he could sink his teeth into. Whizzer wasn’t made for—whatever this was. ****  
** **

Leaning back in his chair, Whizzer chewed slowly, ignoring the sudden uneasiness that had come upon him and watching Marvin with a smirk. He couldn’t explain the pleasure he derived from the way Marvin’s face scrunched up in unadulterated distaste: he’d long come to accept the aspect of himself that was purely sadistic. “How is it, Marv?” He asked, feigning innocence. “Just like _Mom_ used to make?” ****  
** **

Marvin snorted. “My mom made me jackshit.” ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes disbelievingly. “Oh, come off it, Marv. You, in your _big_ house with your _horse and carriage_ and your _butler_ and your _chambermaids_ and your _four poster beds_ —” ****  
** **

“Okay, I grew up _rich_ , not in nineteenth-century England,” Marvin chuckled, letting the sound dissipate into his surroundings before continuing. “Plus, we actually _did_ have a few maids—don’t look at me like that, Whizzer, I said _a few_ —that did the housework and shit,” he explained, laughing abruptly. “Christ, I was probably closer to them than my actual parents.” Shaking his head self-deprecating, he leaned back, swirling his wine in his glass. “Trust me, you don’t need to worry about me going into the whole _I was a neglected child and that’s why I’m a spoiled prick_ spiel—I’m saving that for Mendel—but, yeah. They were away more than they were home, is all,” he trailed off lamely, his gaze fixed on one of the uneaten carrots on his plate.  ****  
** **

The admission was an unwarranted one—and completely unexpected at that. Whizzer was taken aback by Marvin’s abrupt honesty, as if he were suddenly letting Whizzer peer into his insides in a way he’d so rarely exposed before. Strangely, he felt a tugging sensation in his chest, something akin to empathy. Or perhaps it was discomfort—he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the sudden reminder that Marvin was a human being with insecurities and vulnerabilities was somewhat of a shock to Whizzer, and he felt a wave of uncharacteristic sympathy for the man. ****  
** **

“Parents, right? Who needs ‘em?” He chuckled lightly, immediately wanting to beat himself over the head with a baseball bat at how the words sounded _far_ too brash and loud in the same space as Marvin’s soft admission. ****  
** **

Marvin met his gaze, appearing to glimpse something in Whizzer’s gaze that caused him to laugh, exhaling through his nose. “Right. Yours, too?”  ****  
** **

“Super fucking religious. Not happy with a gay son,” he replied simply, letting out a small laugh to show how simple it _really_ was—or how simple it _should_ be. He wasn’t going to relay the gory details of his childhood now, not to Marvin, not yet, but—at the risk of sounded like an overdramatic adolescent projecting their feelings—it hadn’t been easy for him, not in the slightest. He’d have liked to be able to say that being rejected by his family, humiliated and disregarded as if he’d been nothing but an incidental _guest_ in their home for eighteen years was nothing more than a walk in the park, that he was completely unfazed by it and could talk about it as if he were discussing Sunday brunch, but—embarrassingly, he still felt the wounds had been left untreated, and—to _expose_ them, to let Marvin take a look inside _him_ —was something he simply wasn’t ready to do—lest he found something he didn’t like. Like he would. Like they all did eventually. ****  
** **

Marvin didn’t laugh. Instead, he extended a hand across the table for Whizzer to take whilst staring up at him with that same wide-eyed fucking blue stare. Like he was peering into his _soul_.  ****  
** **

Staring down at the offending limb, for one _terrifying_ second, he thought to take it. The sudden urge to slip his hand into Marvin’s and simply allow the comfort to wash over him was completely foreign territory and before he knew it, he had clumsily got to his feet, the chair legs scraping against the floor.  ****  
** **

Avoiding Marvin’s bemused gaze, he piled the two plates on top of one another—disregarding the fact that Marvin had yet to finish—and quickly spun around to make his way over to the sink. ****  
** **

He didn’t turn around as Marvin called out softly, “Whizzer?” Nor did he acknowledge his presence as he moved to stand closely behind him, moving his hands to his hips and settling his head against Whizzer’s shoulder.  ****  
** **

“What’s wrong, baby?” He murmured against his neck, his fingers stroking his hips.  ****  
** **

And this here— _this_ was what was wrong. This comfortable, domestic _couple_ shit that Marvin had suddenly started to believe was acceptable, that Whizzer was his _boyfriend_ , or something equally as ridiculous. He held no feelings towards the man besides lust and mild irritation, no matter _what_ the fluttering feeling in his stomach had to say about it.  ****  
** **

Opening his mouth to give Marvin a piece of his mind, he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell.  ****  
** **

Marvin cursed, his fingers tightening at Whizzer’s hips. “Fuck, they’re here.” ****  
** **

“What?” He jerked out of Marvin’s hold. “You didn’t say they were coming now.” ****  
** **

“Well, they are,” Marvin replied matter-of-factly. The doorbell rang again. “ _Shit_. Put those plates in the cupboard. Last thing I need is for Trina to think I have some _mistress_ eating dinner with me.” ****  
** **

“Oh, I’m your mistress now, am I?” Whizzer crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow after storing the plates. ****  
** **

“Shut the fuck up and open the door, Whizzer." ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes but obliged, making his way across the room to open the door. He was greeted by the sight of Cordelia, holding a bottle of scotch and grinning from ear-to-ear. Her smile faltered in confusion as Whizzer opened the door. ****  
** **

“Whizzer?” ****  
** **

He gave her a winning smile, hoping it was convincing enough that she wouldn’t ask any questions. “Hey, come in.” ****  
** **

“How come you’re here so early?” She asked as he closed the door behind her. “I thought you said you’d be late because you’d be at the library doing your project?” ****  
** **

“We were doing the project here?” He responded uncertainly, recognising the flaw in his excuse. Her narrowed eyes let him know she wasn’t buying it. “Okay, so we’re fucking,” he said quickly, hoping to get this over as quickly as he could. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t already _know_ —his excuses as to why he’d been out every night for the past few weeks had become more and more unrealistic as the days trickled by, beginning as simply _‘I’m going to the bar’_ —which had tended to elicit the response _‘can’t I go with you?’_ followed by a pout, meaning he couldn’t use that as an excuse any longer—to _‘I’m volunteering down at the animal shelter’_ , which tended to elicit the confused response of _‘but you hate animals?’_ His reliable method to get out of answering was to shut the door before she had time to respond.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shock, causing Whizzer to wonder if she truly _hadn’t_ known. She went to say something but was interrupted by Marvin obliviously joining the conversation, greeting her at the front door with a welcoming grin. “Hey, ‘Delia.” ****  
** **

Not one for subtlety, the first thing that slipped out of her mouth was, “you’re screwing my best friend?” ****  
** **

Taken aback, Marvin did a great impression of a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing several times, unsure of how to respond. Finally settling on an appropriate response, he turned to Whizzer, glaring. “You told her?”  ****  
** **

“You never asked me not to,” he argued. ****  
** **

“I thought that was a given,” Marvin hissed. “No one’s supposed to know about us. No one’s meant to know that I—” he cut off and Whizzer found himself wishing he’d continue. “They’d think it’s _gay_ , Whizzer.” ****  
** **

And, oh, so _this_ is how it worked. Marvin could act like they’d been in a committed relationship for years when they were alone, screwing him like they were the only two people alive and stroking his thigh as they lay in the aftermath and murmuring sweet nothings into his hair, but in _public_ —well, that was a whole different ball game. He didn’t know why he was surprised; he knew better than anybody how deep the layer of denial Marvin hid beneath was—but for some reason, hearing it aloud only served to make it all the more _real._ ** **  
****

“Newsflash, Marvin,” he snapped, the words spewing out of his mouth unbridled and unfiltered. “It _is_ fucking gay and _you_ are fucking gay, so how about you grow the hell up and join us in the real world.” ** **  
****

He knew as he uttered the words that he’d taken a step too far. That much was evidence by the raw expression of hurt that spread across Marvin’s face and the way Cordelia bit her lip as she did when Whizzer did something even _she_ disapproved of. And—perhaps they were right. Perhaps he should’ve let Marvin come to terms with his sexuality in his own time, leaving him to figure out what he truly wanted in due course. But what Whizzer did _wasn’t_ always right—in fact, it was hardly _ever_ right. ****  
** **

Marvin opened his mouth to respond when the doorbell rang again. Giving Whizzer one final look, he opened the front door to reveal Trina and Mendel. Marvin’s face lit up at the sight. ****  
** **

“Hey, baby,” Marvin smiled, seeming to have regained his composure. And humiliatingly, for a fleeting moment, Whizzer thought he’d been talking to _him_. He’d become so accustomed to the term of endearment, he was almost tempted to ask Marvin if he’d forgotten they were in public, because he didn’t call Whizzer _that_ in public. It was like a slap in the face when Marvin took Trina into his arms, smiling softly and kissing her tenderly. He almost felt indignant, almost as if _Trina_ were the other woman and _Whizzer_ was Marvin’s girlfriend. ****  
** **

Whizzer turned away from the sight, a sudden weight pressing down upon his chest. “Hey, Mendel,” he greeted, somewhat relieved at the disturbed look he, too, was sending the couple from beside them. ****  
** **

“Hey, what’s up?” Mendel responded, smiling at Whizzer and shutting the front door behind him. ****  
** **

Pulling away from Trina, Marvin, like the _generous_ host he was, led everybody to the table.  ****  
** **

Whizzer sat beside Cordelia, her eyes reading _I will break your fucking arms if you don’t tell me everything later, okay?_ Whizzer, smiling apologetically, gave a short nod of affirmation. ****  
** **

Trina moved to sit on his right, but was halted in her movements by Marvin’s voice. ****  
** **

“No, Trin, sit next to me,” he said quickly. At her bemused stare, he explained, “Whizzer doesn’t know how to play. I need to sit beside him to help him.” Which—in all honesty—didn’t make a whole lot of sense, considering they _all_ knew how to play poker, besides Whizzer.  ****  
** **

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Marvin’s patronizing tone, he stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Marvin’s gaze. Marvin brought a few drinks over to the table, the Dire Straits CD regrettably still playing in the background. ****  
** **

Seating himself a little closer to Whizzer than necessary, Marvin pulled up a chair, immediately starting the game as the dealer. He turned to Whizzer. ****  
** **

“Okay, Whizzer, I’m going to try and explain this to you, seeing as you’ve never played before,” he started condescendingly. Whizzer didn’t even think he realised how _truly_ patronising his tone was—perhaps it was simply embedded in his very being that _this_ was the way to talk to people, _this_ was how he was supposed to communicate. Absently, he wondered who it had been that had taught him as such—his absent father, perhaps?  ****  
** **

At Marvin’s insistent gaze, Whizzer reluctantly turned to the hand of cards Marvin had splayed out in front of him. “It’s pretty simple actually. Some people put money in to bet with, but seeing as you don’t know how to play, we’ll just play without. Okay, right—so, everyone starts with five cards, like this,” he explained, showing Whizzer his hand. “And you can exchange up to three of your cards to get a better hand. So, you see this,” he showed his hand comprising of two eights, a jack and two queens. “My hand is not too bad, so I might just exchange the jack in the hopes that I could get a full house—that is, three eights or three queens and a pair of the other. Do you think you understand?” ****  
** **

At this, Whizzer did roll his eyes. “Yes, I _think_ I understand.”

Ignoring his irritation tone, Marvin continued. “Right. So, I’ll explain more while we play but you can get a whole range of different outcomes—you can get a flush, a straight—sometimes called a royal flush—a full house, threes of a card, pairs, etcetera. I’ll help you because you might not be able to recognise it,” he offered, causing Whizzer’s annoyance to rise. “And, to clarify, the aim of the game is that whoever has the best hand wins. It’s pretty fun.” ****  
** **

“It sounds boring,” Whizzer said—just to screw with Marvin. ****  
** **

“No, it’s fun,” Marvin protested. “Okay, now we can begin.” ****  
** **

They began playing and—as Marvin had claimed—it actually _was_ pretty simple; Whizzer found himself picking up the game quickly, much to Marvin’s chagrin.  ****  
** **

They were well into the game—and into the bottle of scotch they’d opened—when Cordelia began talking about Charlotte, because of _course_ she did.  ****  
** **

“Alright, guys, do you want to hear what happened yesterday?” She asked, her eyes alight with excitement. ****  
** **

“Not really,” Whizzer teased, swirling his scotch in his glass. ****  
** **

Immaturely, she stuck her tongue out at him before beginning. "Okay, get this. So, I’m in Chemistry, right,” she began. “And we’re doing some Mass Spec shit—easy, right?—when Charlotte says, ‘gosh, ‘Delia, how are you so good at this? I screw it up every time. Do you think maybe you’d have time this week to come over to mine and go over it with me?’—” ****  
** **

“Jesus, now _that_ is the beginning of a low-budget X-rated movie if I’ve ever heard one,” Whizzer snickered, raising his eyebrows suggestively. ****  
** **

“Or maybe she just wanted help studying,” Marvin offered helpfully. ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes, side-eyeing him derisively. “No one _studies_ at someone that they’ve kissed’s apartment if they aren’t hoping they’ll get some kind of a fuck out of it. Jesus, Marv, get your head out of your ass.” ****  
** **

“Weren’t _you_ guys doing your project here earlier?” Mendel asked innocently. ****  
** **

There was a moment’s silence. “Okay, no one _except_ Marvin,” Whizzer said quickly, noticing the way Trina’s gaze had wandered to the pair curiously. ****  
** **

“Trina, honey, will you get some candles?” Marvin grabbed her attention, his voice sickly sweet. “You know where they are.” ****  
** **

Glancing over at Marvin in surprise as he addressed her, she rose from her seat. “Sure,” she chirped, pecking him on the cheek. ****  
** **

“Guys, that’s not even the end of the story,” Cordelia whined. ****  
** **

“What happened next, ‘Delia?” Mendel asked, seemingly _genuinely_ curious. ****  
** **

“Okay, so I—” ****  
** **

“Jesus, Marv, you’re such a slob,” Trina interrupted, holding up the two plates he and Whizzer had used over dinner and pulling them out of the cupboard Whizzer had hastily stored them in. “Christ, you could’ve at least put them in the sink.” ****  
** **

“Um,” he stuttered, taken off-guard. “Guess I wasn’t thinking. Jeez, that’s embarrassing.” ****  
** **

“Just can’t take care of yourself when I’m not around, can you?” She said teasingly, moving the dishes to the sink without another thought. Whizzer could feel Marvin exhale in relief from beside him. Taking pity on the man, he placed a comforting hand on Marvin’s thigh under the table. Visibly relaxing at the touch, Marvin sent him a small smile at the gesture. ****  
** **

“You got me,” Marvin chuckled, glancing up at Trina. ****  
** **

“Don’t worry, I love you anyway,” she grinned, lighting the candles and seating herself once again. As Trina rejoined the group, the game of poker resumed, despite their interest having dwindled with the volume of alcohol consumed and the warm atmosphere in Marvin’s apartment. Whizzer found himself enjoying the night, causing him to question why he’d been dreading it all week. ****  
** **

“Okay, so we’re lighting the Bunsen burner—” Cordelia continued, having recounted a fairly extensive list of flirtatious encounters that had occurred between she and Charlotte that even _Whizzer_ found himself impressed by, given the fact that she’d sworn they had _all_ occurred in the space of one hour.  ****  
** **

Suddenly, with his hand still resting on Marvin’s thigh, obstructed from view by the table, a thought entered his head—something devious, inappropriate and _far_ too tempting of an opportunity to pass up. ****  
** **

Ever so subtly, his hand began to move, lightly stroking Marvin’s thigh in a way that could be construed as _completely_ innocent—saying that, when can one man stroking another’s thigh _ever_ be truly innocent? Despite the movement against his leg, Marvin made no sign he’d even _realised_ the slight change, his eyes fixed on his cards and possibly the only person sat around the table still engrossed in the game.  ****  
** **

Slowly, he began to shift his hand to the inseam of his pants, making gentle circular movements with his thumb. That _did_ arouse a reaction from Marvin, questioningly flickering his eyes to Whizzer’s and visibly swallowing. If not for the telltale mischievous glint in Whizzer’s eye, there was no indication that Whizzer was touching Marvin at _all_ , his face carefully schooled into a neutral expression and his head cocked as if intently listening to Cordelia’s speech. ****  
** **

“—and as I light it, she holds me back a little and she’s like, ‘careful, it would be a shame if your pretty hair would catch fire’—” ****  
** **

Gradually, his palm began to wander upwards, much to Marvin’s growing panic. The second his hand began to grope at his crotch, Marvin coughed, moving his lower body away from Whizzer’s prying touch. ****  
** **

“You okay, Marv?” Trina asked nicely, noting the way Marvin had began shifting in his chair. ****  
** **

“Yeah, course.” He smiled tightly, his voice sounding slightly choked.  ****  
** **

Whizzer subtly moving his chair closer, the feel of Marvin’s dick underneath his fingers making him insatiable with the need to touch _more_. Satisfied that Marvin was once again in reach, his hand returned to his dick, the bulge in his pants an indication of how much he was truly enjoying Whizzer’s hands on him. Whizzer was glad Marvin wasn’t wearing jeans—it meant he could touch all of him so much _closer_.  ****  
** **

Marvin didn’t seem to be particularly surprised by the feel of Whizzer’s hand on him again—in fact, he almost appeared to be moving _closer_ now. Whizzer’s lips parted as he rubbed his hand against Marvin’s clothed cock, the flush creeping up the latter’s neck as he became harder with the game’s progression. Whizzer found that with Marvin as repressed as he was, it didn’t take much for him to get it up—especially if it was _Whizzer_ doing the touching. ****  
** **

Electing to maintain the facade that Whizzer’s hand rubbing him through his pants was a _bother,_  he discreetly turned to face Whizzer, mouthing _stop_ and batting his hand away half-heartedly. ****  
** **

Whizzer, eyes hooded and pants tightening every moment, mouthed back _make me_. Marvin’s gaze was instinctively drawn to Whizzer lips, at the way his pink tongue wetted them slowly and deliberately as he held eye contact.  ****  
** **

“—and I was like ‘aw, I didn’t know you like my hair so much’ and—here’s the real clincher—she says ‘yeah, it looks so soft. Would it be weird if I said I wanted to touch it?’—” ****  
** **

Ever so slowly, Whizzer reached for the zip of Marvin’s pants, tugging it down torturously slowly and priding himself on how he undid the button of his pants with two fingers. Marvin’s breathing became more erratic, the motion of Whizzer slowly opening up his pants driving him wild. ****  
** **

He reached inside his pants, the second his hand came into contact with Marvin’s prick, the latter’s eyes fluttered closed as a whimper escaped his lips. ****  
** **

The noise—though barely audible—seemed as though it echoed throughout the apartment, sticking out like a sore thumb in the same space as the lively chatter and soft strumming of the Dire Straits CD in the background. ****  
** **

“Marv, are you okay, honey?” Trina asked, laying a concerned hand on Marvin’s bicep and causing his eyes to fly open immediately.  ****  
** **

“Yeah, no—I-I’m fine, honestly,” he said, his voice strangled. Whizzer bit his lip to refrain from laughing. “Uh, I just have a good hand.” ****  
** **

“He’s bluffing, look at how red he is!” Mendel called out, causing Whizzer to stop his movements. ****  
** **

Gritting his teeth, Marvin forced out, “I am _not_ bluffing."

Mendel raised his hands in mock-surrender, taken aback by Marvin’s sudden defensiveness. “ _Okay_.”

Tentatively, Cordelia continued, despite the fact that the group’s interest in the story appeared to have dwindled drastically. “And I was like, ‘yeah, you can touch my hair’—” ****  
** **

As the conversation picked up once again, he wasted no time in tugging Marvin’s cock from his pants again and beginning to pump, his grip tight around his dick. Marvin’s fingers came to grip his thigh, his breath stuttering as Whizzer picked up the pace, mercilessly twisting his hand. He thumbed the slit, almost moaning himself as Marvin let out a shuddery breath of pleasure. ****  
** **

Beginning to lose control, Marvin’s grip on Whizzer’s thigh increased tenfold, a sign that the man was on the precipice of coming. Whizzer abruptly loosened his fist, tucking Marvin back into his pants and quietly zipping him up once again. ****  
** **

And Marvin was not happy with that at _all_. He turned to face Whizzer, his expression one of unadulterated desperation as he mouthed subtly _finish it._ ****  
** **

“And then she stroked my hair for the _longest_ time and it was so sweet, y’know? But, anyway, the point of the story is—I’m going round hers tomorrow night!” She exclaimed excitedly, and, Whizzer didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it _sounded_ like she’d reached the end of the story.  ****  
** **

Whizzer ignored Marvin, smiling sweetly at his best friend. “That’s great, ‘Delia! Remember: Dress slutty,” he winked, purposely avoiding Marvin trying to desperately catch his eye in his peripheral vision. ****  
** **

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Whizzer, it’s a _study_ date, not a night out in a club.” ****  
** **

“Alright, I’m calling this as the last game. What does everyone have?” Trina questioned, clearly having had enough of the game. She wouldn’t be the only one, Whizzer thought, glancing at a very frustrated Marvin out of the corner of his eye. Each laying down their hands one by one, it became apparent no one had been playing with anything more than a pair of sixes. Marvin revealed a pair of threes, causing Mendel to state indignantly that he _knew_ Marvin was bluffing. ****  
** **

Miraculously, Whizzer won with a pair of nines. He could see Marvin’s knuckles whitening under the table. ****  
** **

* * *

Another hour passed and the group had collectively agreed to call it a night. ****  
** **

Trina and Mendel had left at the eager exclamation from Mendel that _he_ could drive her home (Whizzer _knew_ there’d been a reason as to why Mendel had been avoiding drinks all night _—anything_ to get to spend more time with Trina), meaning there was no plausible reason for her to _have_ to stay at Marvin’s for the night. If Whizzer was being honest, he owed Mendel one for that—he had a feeling his and Marvin’s plans would be _drastically_ different if Trina decided to stay the night.  ****  
** **

Thus, it remained only he, Marvin and Cordelia were sat around the table, nursing their final drinks and talking about stupid, meaningless shit that college students have a tendency to discuss—like playing _would you rather_ and tossing around random facts as if they were of the utmost importance. Whizzer loved Cordelia, he really did, but the tightness in his pants hadn’t eased up and right now, what he needed more than anything was Marvin _alone_. He didn’t need to ask to be sure that Marvin’s thoughts mimicked his own, evident from his clipped responses and how he seemed unable to stop shifting in his seat.  ****  
** **

Finally, Cordelia made a move to stand from her seat, yawning. “Jeez, I am _tired._ You ready to go, Whizzer?” ****  
** **

“Uh—” he cast a fleeting glance at Marvin, who was glaring at Whizzer as if _daring_ him to go home with her and leave him high and dry, alone with nothing more than his hand as a companion. ****  
** **

Luckily, he needn’t have said anything more due to how conveniently perceptive Cordelia could be at times. She gave them both a wary look. “Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Whizzer,” she migrated towards the front door, casting a look back at the pair. “Uh—be careful? Remember to be safe? I don’t know what people say in these situations. I hope it’s good?” ****  
** **

“Thanks, ‘Delia,” Whizzer responded, rolling his eyes as an indication that he’d be fine. She sent a tight smile in Whizzer’s direction before closing the door behind her, leaving only the two of them in Marvin’s apartment. ****  
** **

The silence between them seemed to stretch on for _hours_ as they sat still with bated breath and waited for either one of them to say _something_. ****  
** **

Marvin was the one to break the silence. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if you’d been caught?” He said in a cold, hard voice. Whizzer remained silent. “Christ, Whizzer, Trina could’ve _seen_.”  ****  
** **

“You weren’t complaining at the time,” Whizzer sneered, his eyes shifting to meet Marvin’s. ****  
** **

He didn’t reply for a painfully long period of time. “Get on your knees.” ****  
** **

Feeling a thrill zip up his spine and his blood thrumming in his ears, he maneuvered to kneel between Marvin’s legs, staring up at the way Marvin’s jaw was set and his eyes were dark—darker than he’d ever seen them. Whizzer felt his cock twitch in his pants. ****  
** **

“Unzip my pants and take them off,” he demanded, his domineering tone sending a wave of heat through Whizzer’s gut. As it was, they were always fairly versatile in the bedroom, the shifting power roles fluid between them. However, in this moment, it was indisputable that _Marvin_ was in charge, and Marvin wasn’t about to give up an opportunity like this—the opportunity that Whizzer would _submit_. ****  
** **

Whizzer did as he was told, unzipping the other man’s pants at a torturous pace and slipping the button through the hole. Marvin lifted himself momentarily so Whizzer could drag his pants down his thighs, leaving him in his underwear, the material stretched thinly over his obscene bulge.  ****  
** **

Whizzer’s lips involuntarily parted, his throat feeling dry at the sight. He leaned forward, nosing his clothed dick and feeling Marvin jerk slightly beneath him. He cast his eyes upwards, pressing a single kiss to his cock and mouthing at his length through the fabric. Marvin looked positively _ruined_ at the sight, watching Whizzer through half-lidded eyes, his lips slick and his chest rising and falling slowly.  ****  
** **

“Pull my cock out,” Marvin ordered, having lost patience with Whizzer’s teasing. ****  
** **

Smirking, Whizzer’s fingers came to grip the waistband of the material. He tugged the fabric slowly down Marvin’s thighs, biting his lip as his length sprang free. He marvelled at the flushed length of it, the purpling head causing excitement to coil tight in Whizzer’s gut.  ****  
** **

“Kiss it,” Marvin instructed, his tongue slowly wetting his lip. ****  
** **

Whizzer flicked his eyes up to him but obliged, pressing a single kiss to the head.  ****  
** **

Marvin let out a breath, the fleeting touch alone enough to elicit a reaction from him. “Wrap your lips around it, baby,” he breathed. “See if you can put them to good use.” ****  
** **

At that, Whizzer wasted no time in taking his prick into his mouth.  ****  
** **

Marvin let out a whimper at the feeling, his fingers unconsciously finding their way into his hair. “Christ, Whizzer, you look so pretty down there,” he exhaled as Whizzer began slowly bobbing his head up and down, primarily only venturing shallowly down Marvin’s length before taking him deeper. “You enjoyed acting like a little slut tonight, didn’t you?—Touching me, teasing me—knowing no one could see under the table.”  ****  
** **

Whizzer couldn't help but let out a soft sound at his words, the noise completely involuntary and creating a vibration through Marvin’s cock, causing him to rut into the other’s mouth as a knee-jerk reaction.  ****  
** **

“Of course you did,” Marvin hissed as Whizzer pulled off his length with a satisfying pop, licking a long stripe up the side. “I bet you knew how this would turn out for you, too—on your knees for me. Fuck, you wanted this all night long, didn’t you?” He groaned. “Tell me I’m wrong, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

Whizzer continued to watch the other man, innocently blinking up at him, his lips stretched obscenely around Marvin’s cock.  ****  
** **

“Don’t look at me like that, Whizzer—Christ, do you want me to come right now?” His fingers tightened in Whizzer’s hair. “Let me fuck your mouth,” he pleaded, his eyes brimming with pure _want._ ** **  
** **

The look in Whizzer’s eyes gave him all the permission he needed to begin moving his hips, slowly picking up the pace as he fucked into Whizzer’s mouth. Seeming to lose control, he slid his length in and out, Whizzer’s almost non-existent gag reflex allowing him to hit the back of his throat. Marvin’s lips parted as he watched the point of connection between his prick and Whizzer’s lips, the head of his cock disappearing inside the wet heat of Whizzer’s mouth. Marvin dipped both of his thumbs into the sides of Whizzer’s mouth, beginning to fuck his cock sloppily in, making him feel _used_ and _dirty_ and—almost come in his pants right then and there. Marvin threw his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. “Stop—stop, Whizzer. I don’t want to come like this—I-I want to be inside you.” ****  
** **

Whizzer almost whimpered at the words, moving his mouth off of Marvin’s dick.  ****  
** **

Marvin’s eyes softened as he admired Whizzer, his hand come to rest on Whizzer’s cheek. “Christ, look at you. You’re a mess,” he said, referring to Whizzer’s dishevelled hair and his pink, swollen lips. ****  
** **

Without thinking, Whizzer leaned into the touch, almost forgetting that _they_ didn’t do that sort of thing. “Fuck me, Marvin,” he murmured lowly, biting his lip and causing Marvin to swallow thickly.  ****  
** **

“Fuck, okay,” he breathed. “Right here. I want you on me.” ****  
** **

Pulling Whizzer to his feet, he made light work of unzipping his pants, letting them drop to the floor and leaving him in his shirt and boxer briefs. Pinching the fabric between two fingers, Marvin slid the material down his thighs, his dick slapping against his stomach and relieving the pressure. Whizzer grinned, making a move to straddle the other man. ****  
** **

“Shirt too,” Marvin said firmly, halting him in his movements. “I want to feel all of you.” ****  
** **

Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Any more conditions you have, Marv? A house in France? A yacht?” He asked sardonically, unable to resist the jibe. Slowly, he reached for the top of his shirt, undoing his it one button at a time whilst maintaining eye contact.  ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a short look, evidently unamused by the little show Whizzer was putting on. “Don’t tease me, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

“You’re no fun,” Whizzer chuckled, slipping a condom out of his pocket. He moved towards Marvin, climbing into his lap and straddling the other man against the chair. Making quick work of rolling the condom over Marvin’s length, he sent a devilish look in the other man’s direction. Wasting no time, he lifted himself slightly, wrapping a hand around Marvin’s cock and lining it up against his entrance. He paused to ask, “would you like to do the honours or shall I?” ****  
** **

“Wait, wait,” Marvin hastily said, placing a hand on Whizzer’s arm. “I need to— _ah_ ,” he groaned as Whizzer began to rub up against Marvin’s cock head, threatening to sink down onto it. “I-I need to prep you first.” ****  
** **

“I’ll be fine,” Whizzer rolled his eyes impatiently. At Marvin’s uncertain gaze, he gave him a short look, stressing, “I’ll be _fine_. Please, Marvin, I’ve had bigger than _you_.” ****  
** **

Marvin scoffed derisively. “Size queen.” ****  
** **

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Marv,” he grinned, gasping when Marvin suddenly pushed up into him. The stretch was certainly there, but it was nothing more than a mild discomfort, a mere inconvenience. He couldn’t bring himself to complain, anyway, when Marvin was staring up at him like _that_ , like his whole world revolved around them held together like this, so intimate and close he could barely breathe.  ****  
** **

Sinking ever so slowly down onto Marvin’s cock, he could feel himself adjusting to his size until he was completely seated on the other’s lap, Marvin’s entire length inside him.  ****  
** **

“ _Oh,_ ” Marvin let out a soft sound at the same time as Whizzer let out a shuddery breath, the feeling of being _full_ so utterly overwhelming. Briefly, his eyes fluttered closed, his hands snaking around Marvin’s neck to grasp at the short hairs that curled at the nape of his neck. His eyes drifted open as Marvin spoke.  ****  
** **

“Are you okay? Can I—can I move?” Marvin asked quietly, visibly restraining himself from fucking into Whizzer like he wished to. ****  
** **

Whizzer let out a breath, biting down on his lip. “Yeah, I’m good, I’m good.” ****  
** **

With that, Marvin began pulling out, lifting Whizzer up off of him and then lowering him down again. Gradually, he began picking up the pace, fucking into Whizzer a little deeper each time. As Whizzer felt the burn become practically non-existent, he began lifting himself up and meeting Marvin’s thrusts, causing them both to moan at the motion. ****  
** **

Marvin’s fingers snaked up to rest at Whizzer shoulder blades, his fingers spreading across his skin and pressing them chest-to-chest. “Oh, _fuck_ , Whizzer, you’re so tight around me,” he breathed against his chest, causing Whizzer to bite his lip. “Jesus, it’s like my cock was _made_ for you,” he exhaled. “Only you,” he said, somewhat absently, as if the words hadn’t fully registered before he’d uttered them. Whizzer chose not to linger upon the fact that the two little words brought an unfamiliar sort of warmth to his chest.  ****  
** **

Whizzer let his head fall back as Marvin began to press his lips against his clavicle. “ _Marv_ …” he hummed at the attention.  ****  
** **

Noting the scattered hickies along the length of his collarbone from various hook-ups, Marvin began sucking and biting over each and every one, making his own marks to replace the old ones. He smirked as he did so, smug and self-satisfied once he’d left a suitable claim over the expanse of Whizzer’s skin—as if he thought Whizzer didn’t realise _exactly_ what he was doing. “This is all for me,” Marvin mumbled against his skin, his fingertips tracing delicate circles along his skin. “Your skin is so soft, Whizzer,” he complimented. “And it’s all mine.” ****  
** **

Whizzer didn’t have the heart to tell him whilst he was screwing the man that he was anything _but_ his—that you couldn’t _own_ a person, and Marvin certainly couldn’t own _him._ ****  
** **

Marvin met him at every thrust, screwing up into Whizzer with a newfound enthusiasm. “Oh, Marv,” he let out an unabashed moan—something he’d be embarrassed hearing if he wasn’t so completely wrecked. “Don’t stop,” he continued, bouncing on Marvin’s cock relentlessly. “I’m serious, don’t fucking stop.” ****  
** **

“You make me so fucking hot, you know that?” Marvin hissed, his fingernails creating indentations in Whizzer’s hip bones.  ****  
** **

He began to feel a pressure building in his abdomen, his eyes sliding shut in ecstasy. “ _Oh_ —oh—Marv, I’m going to come,” he warned, feeling himself on the brink of unravelling as he tugged at the hairs at the nape of Marvin’s neck once more. ****  
** **

“That’s right, come for me, baby,” Marvin encouraged dazedly—and suddenly he was losing all control, his vision blurring as he rode the wave of his orgasm, the pleasure shooting through him like electricity as he cried out. ****  
** **

Not even a moment later, Marvin had followed him into the euphoric bliss, emptying into the condom and continuing to slide his cock in and out of Whizzer, stringing out his high until it dissipated, leaving them both heaving and sated.  ****  
** **

“Fuck,” Whizzer breathed. “That was—” ****  
** **

“Fucking incredible,” Marvin breathed into the crook of his neck, holding Whizzer tightly against him.  ****  
** **

As Whizzer regained his senses, he became all the more aware of Marvin cradling him against his body. It was— _intimate_ —ridiculously so. He glimpsed Marvin’s eyes closed against him, revelling in the quiet contentment that was post-coital elation, the creases and stresses in his expression all ironed out, leaving him looking younger, happier. The _something_ Whizzer felt blooming in his chest at the sight was completely unexpected, his throat constricting and his mouth drying up.  ****  
** **

He almost tripped by how quickly he extracted himself from Marvin’s hold, getting to his feet and picking up his shirt from the floor. “Well, that was fucking great, Marv—” ****  
** **

“Aren’t you going to stay the night?” Marvin asked, dismayed as he watched Whizzer gather his clothes to leave. The question took him off-guard.

“Uh—no?” He responded, frowning in confusion. ****  
** **

“Would you? Please, Whizzer,” he asked softly, standing and reaching to take a hold of Whizzer’s wrist, who had halted in his movements. “Trina’s not staying,” he said as some kind of _justification_ , as if it made sense that _just_ because Trina couldn’t serve as Marvin’s bedwarmer, Whizzer would stand in for the night without question. The prospect of being a mere replacement caused bile to rise in his throat. ****  
** **

He glanced down at Marvin’s hand gripping his wrist and abruptly jerked it away. “ _I want_ doesn’t get,” he stated, unnerved by Marvin’s pleading tone which was strictly reserved for sex. ****  
** **

“Why not?” Marvin demanded, irritation creeping into his tone. “We’ve done it before.” ****  
** **

“ _Once_. We’ve done it once before.” ****  
** **

“And you enjoyed it just as much as I did,” Marvin argued. ****  
** **

“How do you know that?” Whizzer lied. “You practically _molested_ me, getting into my bed in the middle of the night and spooning me without my consent. Uh—I’m good, thanks.”

“ _Whizzer,_ ” Marvin hissed warningly, making a grab for Whizzer’s hand once again. Whizzer snatched his arm away, his temper rising. ****  
** **

“Get it into your fucking head, Marvin. You are nothing but an easy lay, a desperate closet case and a good fuck,” he smiled icily. “I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t sleep in your bed. We fuck, and I leave. Or you leave. We don’t spend the night. That’s not what we are,” he snapped, despite feeling himself inexplicably choking up the slightest bit.  ****  
** **

As he turned on his heel and made his way to the front door, ignoring the sudden well of emotion that was threatening to come to the surface, and the hurt in Marvin’s voice as he called out for him to _wait,_ one thing was made clear to him—from the nightly dinners, the ever growing affection between them, the claims of belonging to anybody but _himself_ , the expectation of staying the night... ****  
** **

This _thing_ he’d been entertaining with Marvin for the past couple of months had to come to a _stop._ **  
**


	13. This Had Better Come to a Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka whizzer does some greatly overdue thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this chapter! tbh i am happy with how this one turned out!  
> leave a comment if you do. or if you don't.

Whizzer would’ve loved to have been able to say that the next time he saw Marvin he ended it. ****  
** **

He’d planned it all out in his head. There would be none of the classical breakup side-effects (because it _wasn’t_ a breakup because they _weren’t_ together). There’d be no crying, no begging, no pathetic attempt at reconciliation—on Marvin’s part, of course. It’d be a clean split. Efficient, effective and, above all, so very _necessary._ ****  
** **

After all, it was hardly like Whizzer could continue to play along with the role Marvin had doggedly been trying to pigeonhole him into these past few months. The perfect housewife. The perfect lover and the perfect complement to his perfect little life in New York City. He’d simply be added to the bottom of the list of Marvin’s accomplishments. There’d be Trina, his apartment, his high school diploma, his college degree, and then there’d be Whizzer. ****  
** **

The night before Marvin invited him over—the night before he ended it—he sat down in his apartment with a glass of scotch and began to toil over the ordeal. ****  
** **

Whizzer wasn’t a great thinker, he really wasn’t. Thinking was for insecure people with insecure little problems they needed to deal with. But even he couldn’t put a stop to something which had been ongoing for months without at least predetermining whether he would experience any emotional backlash. Which he most definitely wouldn’t. But just in case. ****  
** **

It seemed like a less than ideal time to attempt to dissect his feelings for Marvin right at the point at which he wished for their engagement to end. Or maybe there was never a time he needed to come to terms with what he felt _more_. In whichever way he viewed Marvin—whether it was with tolerance or contempt—he felt that, in order to break it off, he needed to deal with any emotional repercussions it’d have on him. ****  
** **

Really, it was very smart of him to end it now. Before it was too late. Before he got in too deep. It was far better to put a stop to things before Marvin fell any more hopelessly in love with him than he already was. Or before some inane sense of sentimental guilt washed over him when he delivered the news. ****  
** **

There was a small part of him that wondered if Marvin would cry. There was a larger part of him that hoped he would. Maybe to prove to himself the power he held over other men. Although—that didn’t sound right. Maybe to prove that he hadn’t misinterpreted everything that they’d been. ****  
** **

It felt strange to analyse what he was feeling, unfamiliar to linger upon—almost like coming into contact with a friend he’d fallen out of touch with. Maybe being turned away from his own flesh and blood years prior had left some deep-seated, emotional repressive tendencies in his character. Or maybe he was just a sick bastard with little sense as to what was morally objectionable and what wasn’t. Maybe he was a sociopath. But—did sociopaths think like this? Resolutely, he affirmed that they probably didn’t. At least that was a comfort. ****  
** **

It was true that Marvin drove him up the wall. That had been an unwavering fact throughout the entire course of their entanglement—something to marvel at, even. Because if Whizzer Brown didn’t like someone, Whizzer Brown didn’t waste their time on them. It was almost miraculous, therefore, how he hadn’t fled at the slightest hint of hostility he’d felt towards the man in question. If he was being honest with himself, he attributed his lack of boredom to some vague, half-formed manifestation of respect he held for Marvin. Sure, he was a pretentious, ignorant bastard with a complete lack of awareness to _what_ was appropriate _when_ it was appropriate—not to mention his singular talent at causing Whizzer’s blood to boil like no other—but… It wasn’t _all_ dislike. ****  
** **

He guessed he did like when Marvin made innocent, unguarded gestures, like playing with Whizzer’s hair absently, and persisting even when Whizzer would bat his hand away, rolling his eyes despite not minding the touch nearly as much as he let on. And it wasn’t so bad when he’d recite stupid, pointless facts over dinner like _did you know some worms will eat themselves if they can’t find any food? Whizzer, are you listening, did you hear what I said? Eat themselves!_

He even thought his overplayed, outdated music wasn’t all bad. He liked teasing Marvin about it more. He liked the little pout on his mouth when Whizzer would roll his eyes and he liked when he would grin and back Marvin into a corner and press his forehead against his, sliding his arms around his neck to play with his hair and the way Marvin’s lips would involuntarily quirk upwards and he’d look away from Whizzer defiantly until Whizzer would press his lips to his, feeling that smile beneath his lips. That wasn’t totally vile. ****  
** **

There were moments in which Whizzer did things for Marvin, too. Like when Marvin would make a minute slip-up in his predominantly smooth daily discourse and Whizzer would look away to avoid causing him any undue embarrassment—such as when Marvin would let a drop of mustard or a blob of jam fall on his shirt and would blush, fervently glance up to see if Whizzer had been watching, only to sigh with relief when he hadn’t been. ****  
** **

Or like when Marvin would persist in prattling on about topics he had an overwhelming passion for, bloviating about some poem he’d recently discovered, a film he’d seen in the past week and desperately _needed_ to tell Whizzer about, or some particularly funny interaction he’d had during his day. And in those moments—Christ, he could talk for _hours_. Sometimes he did. Whizzer couldn’t find it in himself to mind, however, when Marvin’s clear, blue eyes would widen with unadulterated excitement and he’d be beaming that grin, ridiculously toothy and gummy and so terribly _infectious_ that Whizzer, too, would end up enraptured in whatever asinine topic he was fixated on. ****  
** **

He did like his smile. Whizzer could deny anything and everything involving whatever sentiment he felt towards Marvin, but his smile? That was indisputably something he enjoyed about Marvin. He knew—deep down—he’d miss it, too. But just because he’d miss his _smile_ , doesn’t mean he’d miss anything else. If only he could keep _just_ that grin. In a jar or something. As a souvenir. That wouldn’t be weird, right? ****  
** **

And the sex. Well, suffice it to say, there was little else which could measure up to the sheer carnal bliss that was sex with Marvin. It was a damn shame he may have already slept with Marvin for the last time. Ever. Sex with Marvin was like some goddamn _spiritual_ experience, something he was constantly being reminded of when he’d return home from a less than satisfying screw, half-hoping Marvin’d invite him over for some _real_ fun and half resentfully imagining Trina at that current moment, splayed out in the bed _they_ shared. ****  
** **

But—he reminded himself—how unique was a cock, _really?_ He convinced himself he could find someone with the exact same length and girth as Marvin and the experience would be more or less identical. So. That was that problem solved. ****  
** **

There was also the question as to what Marvin made him feel. Well—at risk of sounding like a broken record—he pissed him off. He got under his skin with his quick words and his unaffected retorts. That excited him. He imagined if he’d been lobotomised, his head cracked open and his brain examined, the sections controlling his anger and his lust would be irreparably cross-linked. Because, he’d swear there was _nothing_ he could get it up faster for than the vein that would begin to protrude in Marvin’s forehead when he was _truly_ incensed. He loved that vein. He got off on that vein. ****  
** **

There was definitely something wrong with him. ****  
** **

Sometimes—sometimes, he went too far, though. Like when he’d joke a little too aggressively about what a _slut_ Whizzer was, a fucking _whore_ who’d give it up for anyone he laid his eyes on. Sometimes it’d get dark. Like when he’d pull on Whizzer’s hair too roughly or leave irritated half-moon indentations on his hips after Whizzer spent the night before with someone else. He didn’t like that. ****  
** **

How he acted with Trina—that was something he didn’t like, either. How he’d spend the night with her, subtly evading any and all advances she made upon him—but wouldn’t hesitate in engaging in all the sappy, romantic shit Whizzer had no interest in, almost as if he _needed_ his fix from somewhere, and if it couldn’t be from Whizzer? Well, Trina would just have to suffice. And _why_ did Marvin persist on using the same terms of endearment for the both of them, as if they were _alike_ , as if he couldn’t tell one from the other, and felt no inclination to? He _hated_ that.

So—what exactly was the answer to his question? What did Marvin make him feel? What did he _usually_ feel? ****  
** **

The question took him by surprise, almost as if his own mind had the ability to shock him.

Well—he didn’t feel _depressed_ or _upset_ on a daily basis, by any means. It was pointless to feel _disappointed_ or _sad_ or _hurt_ when any mistake, any complication, any unplanned occurrence was simply to be anticipated. ****  
** **

If he thought about it, he couldn’t say he felt the same warm feeling he felt with Marvin when he was by himself. He didn’t particularly feel _happy_ when he was alone, that was true, but—when does _anybody_ feel truly happy? More importantly, when do _New Yorkers_ feel truly happy? Jesus, he was a full-grown man; he was hardly expected to spend his time smiling at everybody he passed in the streets and colouring in butterflies and rainbows to stick up on his walls before he went to sleep. ****  
** **

New York was a city with _far_ too much going on and _far_ too little time to complete everything. The city of opportunity that constantly failed to bring opportunities. The city that never sleeps because it was perpetually full of lonely people living in lonely apartments, wishing they were sleeping beside somebody else. ****  
** **

Maybe it was appropriate to say then, that, above all, Marvin made him feel alive. He didn’t make him feel _happy_ at every moment of the day, but he certainly made him feel _something_.

Whizzer had adopted a certain blasé attitude towards almost everything over the past few years, accustomed to the lack of surprises and variety meeting new people brought. It was safe to say Marvin surprised him. By his constant juxtapositions—his stupid clever jokes and his petty remarks, his charming smile and his malicious sneer, his need for intimacy and his need to possess. There was something about him that invigorated Whizzer’s very core. ****  
** **

So—all in all, there wasn’t much he’d miss. In New York, where there were millions of people waiting in lines and desperately attempting to fill in vacant positions, of _course_ he could find a replacement. ****  
** **

The thought brought on a newfound wave of claustrophobia. He leaned back in his chair, wondering why it had become so much harder to breathe.   ****  
** **

He’d admit—besides Cordelia—it was difficult to find someone he enjoyed quite as much as Marvin. ****  
** **

New York City. Full of people. None of which he wanted. ****  
** **

More resolved in his decision than ever, he finished off his glass of scotch and made his way to the front door, determined to continue his search in an elusive gay bar downtown.   ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

“Where are you going?” Cordelia asked the next day from the sofa, the image of sophistication with a mug of coffee cradled in one hand and a newspaper in the other. She pushed her reading glasses down her nose, casting a sceptical glance up at Whizzer. ****  
** **

He stopped in his tracks, taking his hand off of the front door. She’d been watching him pace in the living room for the past ten minutes in respectful silence, an inscrutable frown creasing his face. Once he’d finally mustered up enough courage, he’d reached for the front door, only to be halted in the action by his best friend. ****  
** **

He turned to look at her, his features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. ****  
** **

“Out,” he said coolly. ****  
** **

“Out where, Whizzer?” ****  
** **

“Just out, ‘Delia,” he snapped, already feeling tightly strung and decidedly _not_ in the mood to entertain prying questions. ****  
** **

“What the fuck is up with you?” She asked, irritation blatant in her tone. “You can’t even tell your best friend where you’re going now?” ****  
** **

“Why do you need to know?” ****  
** **

“I don’t _need_ to know,” she laid her mug down on the table with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me.” ****  
** **

He let out a humourless laugh. “You don’t need to know everything about my life.” ****  
** **

“Is this about Marvin?” She sneered, her face twisting in disgust. “What, suddenly you get a reliable fuck buddy and now it’s _oh, I don’t need you anymore, Cordelia, I have a huge fucking cock that’s calling my name and we’re no longer best friends?”_ She exclaimed, her face flushing. ****  
** **

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been able to refrain from chuckling at the words _huge fucking cock_ coming from her lips. In this case, however, he couldn’t find the humour in it. It was rare Cordelia was angered, being almost the epitome of tranquility and calm. It was a testament to how annoyed she was with Whizzer, therefore, that possibly could’ve aroused such an emphatic reaction from her. ****  
** **

“We _are_ best friends!” He argued, bemused as to how that was even coming into question. ****  
** **

“Well, you haven’t been fucking acting like it—you’re never here anymore!” She cried. “You’re always with _Marvin_ ,” she spat his name with all the contempt a petite blonde bundle of fury could muster. ****  
** **

“That’s not fair,” he said softly, the words affecting him more than he let on. What did she mean, he was around the apartment all the time! Like, when he ate his breakfast, and when he needed to pick up his dry-cleaning, and when… When he slept… ****  
** **

As he struggled to name any other periods of the day in which he was in the apartment, he came to the abrupt realisation that she may have a point. ****  
** **

“What’s _not fair_ is that you’ve began ditching your friends for your boyfriend!” ****  
** **

“He’s not my boyfriend.” ****  
** **

“Oh, and—thanks for asking, it _did_ go well at Charlotte’s apartment the other day!” She continued, on a roll now as she gesticulated wildly. “Y’know, maybe if you thought to take _two seconds_ out of your day to ask me _anything_ about myself, you’d know that she _kissed_ me, Whizzer! She _kissed_ me. But, _oh, no—_ you’re always preoccupied with your precious _boyfriend!”_ ****  
** **

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Whizzer raised his voice, repeating the phrase in his head like a mantra. _He’s not my boyfriend, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s not my boyfriend..._ ****  
** **

“I am so sick of asking about Marvin! Every time you come home, I let you talk for _hours_ about some tiny, insignificant detail that Marvin did that annoyed you, or made you laugh, or some stupid fucking fact he told you! It’s like you’ve forgotten that _other people exist too,_ Whizzer! ****  
** **

“I know that! It’s just—” he tried to defend himself to no avail. Cordelia was well and truly on a warpath and quite clearly was taking no prisoners. ****  
** **

“No— _you_ , Whizzer, have been acting like a shitty, _shitty_ friend.” ****  
** **

The words hung in the air, volatile and cutting like knives. It was strange that an unkind word from Cordelia could unravel him like nothing else, but the same from Marvin would merely be a part of their daily routine. ****  
** **

“Look, ‘Delia, I’m sorry—” ****  
** **

She put up a hand, an indication she’d heard enough. “Save it, Whizzer. Until you start acting like my best friend again… I don’t want to see you,” she said honestly. She took in a breath. “Now, I am going to my room, and just because I don’t have a lock on my door doesn’t mean you can come in! So… So there,” she said with a certain finality, turning on her heel and marching into her room, neglecting to bring in her coffee and newspaper. ****  
** **

He stood by the door, off-kilter and surprised at the sudden outburst. He let out a breath. Cast one last look towards her bedroom door. Let himself out of the apartment. ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

His nerves hadn’t eased any by the time he’d reached Marvin’s front door. ****  
** **

For the umpteenth time, he reminded himself that there was nothing to be anxious about. This was something that was inevitably going to come to pass sooner or later. He was merely acting as a catalyst to kick things off. ****  
** **

He raised a shaky fist, glaring at the tremors as he did so, and rapped thrice on the hard wood. He willed Marvin not to answer, to do _anything_ but answer. Maybe he wasn’t ready to do this. No, he was, he steeled himself. _Aren’t you the one always criticizing others for pussyfooting around the point?_ He was damn courageous. Not that he needed courage. It’s not like he was breaking up with somebody. ****  
** **

_Don’t open the door, don’t open the door, don’t open the door—_ ****  
** **

“Whizzer! You’re here,” Marvin grinned in relief as he swung the door open. He immediately pulled Whizzer forward, sliding both arms around his waist as he hastily pecked him on the lips. “I’m _starved_.” ****  
** **

Whizzer knew he shouldn’t have felt an immediate tingle up his spine at the sight of Marvin, his anxiety partly dissipating as he pressed his lips to the other man’s—and yet he couldn’t deny that that was _exactly_ how he felt, his lips involuntarily quirking upwards in response. ****  
** **

“You know, you could make something _yourself_ for once,” he responded playfully, not feeling in any mood for an argument—Christ, this was probably the last time he’d _see_ the man alone. ****  
** **

“But then it wouldn’t be as delicious as when you make it, now, would it, dear?” Marvin teased, knowing _damn well_ Whizzer couldn’t cook for shit.  ****  
** **

Despite knowing his words were all simply part of Marvin’s manipulation, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated. Not now. Not when this would be the last meal he’d be making for the man _anyway._ ****  
** **

Which is how he found himself in front of the stove, making Marvin’s dinner for the final time. He, himself, had never viewed cooking as particularly _therapeutic_ , only ever engaging in the act for Marvin’s benefit; however, at that moment as he found himself in a mental struggle, he was almost _thankful_ he had something to do with his hands, something to distract him. Not only that, he’d selected something _so_ beyond the valley of _simple_ that not even _he_ could mess it up: macaroni and cheese.   ** **  
** **

“Jesus, Whizzer,” Marvin chuckled minutes later as he sat across the table from him, making a face as he took a bite out of what could _barely_ classify as a meal, instantly recoiling as it entered his mouth.  ****  
** **

Or perhaps he could find a way to mess that up, too. ****  
** **

Marvin was smiling a small, odd little smile as he met Whizzer’s gaze, the meaning behind which Whizzer couldn’t decipher—he was probably in awe that Whizzer could manage to screw up a meal so simplistic that even a _child_ couldn’t go wrong. Whizzer ducked his head at the sight, his heart feeling infinitely heavier.

“You have any whiskey?” He asked abruptly, in desperate need of some liquid courage. ****  
** **

“Whiskey and macaroni and cheese? Well, I’m game if you are,” Marvin chuckled. “Yeah, I do. You know where it is.” ****  
** **

He was suddenly reminded of when he’d uttered a phrase almost identical to Trina: _You know where they are._ Oh, _that’s_ why he was doing this. ****  
** **

He reached up to the top shelf on the left, pulling out two glasses and the glass bottle, pouring the amber coloured liquid almost to the brim. ****  
** **

“Rough day?” Marvin chuckled as Whizzer did so. ****  
** **

“You can say that again,” Whizzer muttered, taking a seat. Reluctantly, he took a forkful of the meal, immediately grimacing and feeling an uncharacteristic urge to do anything _but_ swallow. “Christ _alive_ , that’s terrible.” ****  
** **

Marvin laughed at Whizzer’s expression. “I’m _Jewish_ and I agree with that sentiment.” He grinned, teasingly remarking, “whoever said you, Whizzer Brown, weren't a domestic goddess is a goddamn _lia_ _r."_ _ ** **  
** **_

Whizzer smiled ever so slightly. _Housewife_. He took a large gulp from the glass. “Right—uh, Marv, I need to talk to you about something.” ****  
** **

“Oh, I have to tell you something too!” Marvin smiled. “You go first.” ****  
** **

“No, you first,” Whizzer said hastily, attempting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. ****  
** **

“Well, guess who called me today?” Marvin said excitedly, his eyes wide and unclouded. Whizzer gave him a blank look in return. “My dad! He said he’ll be coming into the city next week and wants to meet up!” ****  
** **

Knowing how little Marvin’s parents communicated with him and how he desperately sought for their approval in all aspects of his life, there was no doubt about the fact that Marvin’s dad coming into contact with him was the definition of a _big deal_ to Marvin. ****  
** **

He forced a supportive smile onto his face, standing up and grabbing a pepper grinder from the counter just to have something to do. And so he wouldn’t have to look at that smile of Marvin’s for a moment longer, which was set on reminding him of everything he was no longer entitled to after tonight. “That’s great, Marvin.” ****  
** **

“And he said he wants to meet you too! Said he wants to meet this famous _Whizzer Brown_ I’ve made friends with and won’t stop talking about,” Marvin chuckled, catching Whizzer’s arm as he made his way back to his seat and pulling Whizzer into his lap. “Guess you’ll be coming into town with us after all.” ****  
** **

Marvin was so ecstatic that he didn’t seem to register Whizzer stiff as a board on top of him, tense as hell as he planted playful kisses on his cheek and over his jaw.  ****  
** **

Whizzer sucked in a breath. “Yeah, Marv, I don’t know about that—” ****  
** **

Marvin withdrew, his eyes wide and unguarded. “You don’t want to?” ****  
** **

“No, it’s not that—” he began but Marvin had stopped listening, combing his fingers through Whizzer’s hair almost reverently and smiling against his skin. ****  
** **

“It’ll be _so_ much better with you there, too. No awkward bullshit like there always is first meeting up with someone,” he continued, wrapping his arms around Whizzer’s waist to pull him so their lips were no further than a hair’s breadth apart.  ****  
** **

He chuckled nervously as Marvin moved closer. He put his hands on Marvin’s shoulders to subtly stop their lips from connecting. ****  
** **

“Marvin,” he laughed anxiously.  ****  
** **

“What?” Marvin chuckled, surging forward in an attempt to press their lips together, which was thwarted by Whizzer pulling back before the connection. “What game is this?” He laughed at Whizzer’s denial. “Playing hard to get?” He said, his eyes lighting up in understanding. “Oh, I see,” he grinned. “You want me to win you over? Is that what we’re doing?” ****  
** **

And this was definitely _not_ how he’d imagined this going. “Uh, no, that’s not exactly it—” ****  
** **

“Okay, what shall I say to romance you?” Marvin mused grandly, his arms tightening around Whizzer’s torso. He hoped Marvin couldn’t feel the claminess of his hands through his shirt. “Oh, Whizzer Brown, you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, and I am a lucky, lucky guy to be able to call you mine. All mine,” he began, glancing up to assess Whizzer’s expression. “This is what you want?” ****  
** **

Whizzer let out an unsure laugh. He needed to end it. “Well, no, not exactly—” ****  
** **

“You keep me on my toes. I like that. I’d be bored as all hell without that,” Marvin began to suck at the skin of Whizzer’s neck. “And you’re so fucking sexy. Oh, God, just thinking about you makes me hard,” he murmured. ****  
** **

“Marvin, I never said I wanted—” ****  
** **

“You’re not bad company, either,” Marvin grinned cheekily, drastically underplaying how much he truly _did_ enjoy Whizzer’s company. “As lovers go, you keep me damn entertained. What else do I like about you? Oh, I can’t forget to mention those pretty pink lips of yours. Or your ridiculously nice eyes. And I guess I don’t _hate_ listening to you go on about the shit you’re interested in, even if I don’t get it half the time. I like—” ****  
** **

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Whizzer blurted. ****  
** **

Marvin went very, very stiff underneath him then, his face buried in Whizzer’s neck and his breath halting. Slowly, he extracted himself. ****  
** **

“What?” He said softly. ****  
** **

He couldn’t look at Marvin, he really couldn’t. His hands on Marvin’s shoulders served as an anchor, tethering him to solidity. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”  ****  
** **

The silence seemed to stretch on for days, Marvin’s arms remaining around his waist and his forehead against Whizzer’s chest. “Why?”  ****  
** **

And this was where his thinking in advance would pay off. He had all of his reasons laid out ahead of him. He didn’t like the way Marvin didn’t accept his infidelity, he didn’t like the way he treated his girlfriend, he didn’t like Marvin trying to make him into something he wasn’t, he didn’t like the fact he felt he was becoming more attached than he ought to be… ****  
** **

By the time all of his carefully thought out arguments reached his mouth, however, all he felt able to muster was a soft, “you have a girlfriend…”  ****  
** **

Marvin pulled back to glance up at him, trying to catch Whizzer’s eye. Whizzer resolutely stared away. “That hasn’t bothered you in the past.” ****  
** **

“Well, things have changed. It does bother me. I’m serious, Marvin, I don’t want to carry on with this… Thing we have.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Marvin said then, capturing Whizzer’s chin between his fingers. “Hey, look at me...” he said softly. Whizzer felt weak looking into Marvin’s soft, vulnerable gaze. “She’s nothing to me. It’s you I want. It’s you I need…” ****  
** **

“No—no,” Whizzer said, feeling his resolve pathetically weakening. “No, we need to end it.” ****  
** **

“We don’t need to end anything,” Marvin said, his hands slipping under Whizzer’s shirt and feeling along the miles of smooth, tanned skin.  ****  
** **

“Marvin, please...” Whizzer pleaded pathetically, powerless to do anything but lean into the touch.  ****  
** **

“You know just as well as I do that we are great together,” Marvin hummed against his chest.  ****  
** **

“Don’t do this,” Whizzer said, making an attempt to gather all of his energy. “I—didn’t you hear what I said?” ****  
** **

“I know you didn’t mean what you said…” Marvin mumbled, moving his face upwards to beginning kissing a line along Whizzer’s jaw. Whizzer opened up for his mouth like a petal, involuntarily tilting his neck to give him better access.  ****  
** **

Still—Marvin couldn’t disregard what he’d said. It was important… What was important? He was finding it hard to think with Marvin’s mouth on him. “I—” ****  
** **

“Kiss me, Whizzer.” Marvin’s eyes slid shut. ****  
** **

“No, I can’t, I…” he protested but even as he did so his arms wound around Marvin’s neck, his mouth falling close to Marvin’s, so close they were breathing the same air. His eyes fluttered closed. “Why do you do this to me?” ****  
** **

“I’m only doing what you want. What we both want…”  ****  
** **

“You go straight to my head,” Whizzer mumbled, wanting for nothing more than to close the gap between them. ****  
** **

“Kiss me, Whizzer Brown,” Marvin breathed against his lips.  ****  
** **

And this time, he couldn’t think of one reason why he shouldn’t. **  
**

 


	14. I've Missed Him, He's Still Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! I've been at a festival this week so sorry that this may be shorter than usual.  
> comment below what you think! ily!

Whizzer didn’t know when he’d become so goddamn _weak._

Sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out at the cold, artificial lights of New York City, he tried to pinpoint the exact moment he let his control slip away from him, the rapidly dissolving self-belief that he had _any_ power over the situation sifting away like quicksand.

He was annoyed at Marvin. He _hated_ Marvin. 

He clamped down on to that thought. It wasn’t right what Marvin did. He knew Whizzer couldn’t resist the safe familiarity his touches offered, inebriating him with softly whispered words and tender caresses until he’d wound up in a bed he’d never intended to see again under a man he’d never intended to screw again. He’d taken advantage of Whizzer. He’d exploited him. He knew Whizzer was weak for him, and he’d persisted in _taking_ when Whizzer had nothing more to give.

He was annoyed at himself. And in that moment, he could truthfully say he hated himself.

He felt cold. Distant. Like what the two of them had done in that bed had left him devoid of feeling, as if Marvin had screwed the common sense into him, leaving him feeling more clear-sighted than he had in weeks. 

“That was the last time,” he stated quietly into the vast, empty space that was Marvin’s bedroom, buttoning up his shirt.

He’d almost started to believe that Marvin had fallen asleep until he heard the softly murmured, “come back to bed, Whizzer.” Marvin’s fingers reached to brush his frame, coaxing him to spend the night.

Having finished dressing, he stood and quietly walked over to the bedroom door, turning back for one final look.

Marvin had his forearm strewn over his forehead, his eyelids open only a crack as he took in deep, steady breaths, his bare chest rising and falling as he did so. Whizzer made an effort to memorise the sight, the tousled hair and parted lips, the flushed cheeks and whistled exhales. 

Whizzer smiled, such a small and genuine thing he wasn’t sure Marvin could even see it in the dark. “Goodbye, Marvin,” he said, so softly it was barely audible. 

He saw himself out.

* * *

By the time he arrived home, a certain sense of sadness had crept into his heart, his body feeling heavy and dejected. 

He didn’t even register himself walking into Cordelia’s room until he heard her voice whisper in the dark, “Whizzer? Is that you?”

He sat on the end of her bed without uttering a word. She slipped out from under her covers to address him face-to-face.

“I _told_ you—I didn’t want to see you until…” she trailed off as she glimpsed his face. Her expression collapsed into one of concern as she witnessed his glassy eyes and downturned face. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, wrapping her arms around him immediately and pressing her face  into his shoulder. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” He asked quietly, feeling that if he spoke any louder, his voice would waver.

“Of course, come here,” she murmured, turning down her duvet cover. He quickly shucked off his shirt and pants and slipped into bed beside her, thankful he didn’t need to ask for her thin arms to wrap around him from behind.

He didn’t close his eyes, his gaze trained on one small smudge on the wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly after a while, her hand rubbing back and forth over his arm comfortingly.

“No,” he said, not feeling able to explain quite why he felt so upset.

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.” 

He fell asleep a while later once his vision had become so blurred he could no longer see the smudge on the wall.

* * *

He didn’t see Marvin for two whole weeks.

It hadn’t been from lack of trying on Marvin’s part, of course. Marvin had called him dozens of times. Leaving angry voicemails. Leaving sad voicemails. Leaving voicemails in the middle of the night. Leaving desperate voicemails, begging Whizzer to pick up. And eventually, when he realised Whizzer wasn’t going to respond, leaving no voicemails.

Whizzer hadn’t known what it was to miss someone before he lay awake at three o’clock in the morning recalling the exact way Marvin’s laugh fluctuated in different situations: loud and brash in response to something particularly funny, quiet and resigned when despondent, and the laugh he saved for Whizzer, soft and honest and entirely _his_. He hadn’t known what longing felt like until he’d felt the unmovable weight on his chest leaning over to fill the dishwasher, the distinct sensation that something was _missing_ creating a dull ache in his sternum. Maybe it was with the absence of Marvin pressing against him flush from behind, whispering _I’ll do that_ before pinning Whizzer to the kitchen sink, making it evident placing dishes in the dishwasher was the last thing on his mind. He hadn’t known what it was to feel quite so _empty_ until he’d briskly dressed himself in a faceless man’s apartment for the fifth night in a row, feeling no more satisfied than when he’d arrived and somehow feeling the lack of pleading to stay the night as a physical wound, excruciatingly tearing him open from the inside out.

It was embarrassing how much he missed Marvin after two weeks. 

It was almost _too_ perfect how things had worked out in his favour. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d become the brunt of some sick cosmic joke the universe had been playing on him, because there was simply no _way_ Whizzer had been so lucky as to avoid _every_ possible chance encounter with Marvin. Whizzer didn’t do _luck_. Perhaps it was ironic, therefore, that he’d been granted with luck at a time when he’d felt more down on his luck than ever.

Their Poetics professor had reportedly come down with Influenza and—in his words—would be _utterly unable_ to attend class for the next couple of weeks, advising the class to study from home as he sent their coursework via Email. Whizzer was undoubtedly relieved, the thought of watching the temptingly broad shoulders and soft slope of Marvin’s spine from behind a daunting notion, all the while knowing he couldn’t _touch_. Knowing he couldn’t run his fingers along the tense muscle as he furiously scribbled notes into that leather-bound notebook, believing the weight of the world lay upon his shoulders.

Marvin didn’t know his address. Whizzer had never _told_ Marvin his address, figuring that, while it was probably the _safer_ option to screw in Whizzer and Cordelia’s apartment, Marvin—well, Marvin had a memory foam mattress and blinds which actually _worked_. Knowing this, he should’ve felt comforted by the fact that any knock on his front door couldn’t _possibly_ be him. And despite this, any minor disturbance, any miniscule sound made from outside their apartment caused him to jump, his mind automatically jumping to the ridiculous notion that Marvin was standing on the other side of that door, a bouquet of roses in one hand and an expression on his face so _sincere_ Whizzer would simply _have_ to invite him in. Reluctantly, of course.

It was inevitable that their group had met up over the span of those two weeks. But he always had an excuse ready, usually along the lines of _I have a prior engagement across town in an extremely wealthy European man’s bed._ Whenever Cordelia arrived home from one of those group affair, Whizzer wouldn’t say anything along the lines of _did Marvin ask where I was?_ or _did he look disappointed when he saw you were alone?_ despite desperately feeling the urge to.

Therefore, it was with apprehension that Whizzer received Cordelia’s brisk order that he _absolutely_ would be attending Charlotte’s movie night that she’d invited the entire group to that night.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you,” Whizzer chuckled, pausing the third Swayze film he’d watched that evening to prop himself up on his elbow. “I thought you said _I_ was coming.”

“You _are_ coming,” she said, her voice stern and leaving no room for argument. “You haven’t been out with us in two weeks, and _I’m hosting a threesome in our apartment tonight, do you know how rare those are?_ doesn’t count as an excuse.”

He pulled a face. “And why would I go to something like that?”

“Uh, in support of your best friend getting it on under a blanket whilst watching Sixteen Candles?” She responded, crossing her arms.

“I’m flattered, ‘Delia, honestly, but I’m not interested.”

She threw a couch cushion at his face. “With _Charlotte,_ you dick.”

Whizzer pouted, his eyes playful. “Oh, with _Charlotte_. You should’ve been more specific, I was starting to get hard there.”

“So, it’s settled,” she ignored his words, her expression determined. “You’re coming.”

He paused, the smile fading from his face. “I can’t, ‘Delia. He’s going to be there.”

“And since when have you been scared about seeing Marvin?” She stood, hands on hips. “You’re _Whizzer Brown_. You make men fall at your feet for a _living.”_

Whizzer scoffed. “I’m not _scared_. I just… Want to give him as much time to get over me as possible.” 

Cordelia cast critical eyes over him, looking unconvinced.

He rolled his eyes. “I do! Honestly, I am a good fucking person,” he stressed. “Taking on charity cases like Marvin, prolonging how long until he has to see this hot piece of ass again—I’m a fucking _saint_ , ‘Delia.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she raised one eyebrow, turning on her heel to retreat back into her bedroom, calling over her shoulder, “be ready for eight!”

“In your dreams, lady!” He yelled from his position on the couch, pressing play and resuming to drool over Swayze’s tantalizing hip movements.

He was ready at eight on the dot.

* * *

Waiting for Marvin to arrive was nothing short of torture.

Sitting on Charlotte’s couch, Mendel, Charlotte and Cordelia were seated a little to the left of him, meaning Whizzer was closest to the door and would be the first to know when Marvin and Trina had arrived. For all his supposed newfound _luck,_ he seemed to be drastically lacking in it tonight.

The four of them had started Sleepless in Seattle a little under half an hour ago, Cordelia claiming, in response to Whizzer’s bemused look, that they were working their way up to Sixteen Candles, Tootsie sandwiched between the two films. 

Whizzer couldn’t deny not having watched a minute of it, his eyes flicking to the door every few moments, his ears pricking up at every noise made. He rubbed his hands against his thighs, willing himself to stop acting so damn on edge. At the end of the day, Marvin was just a _man_. An infuriating, sexy, charming man, granted—but a man, nonetheless. And if there was anything Whizzer knew like the back of his hand, it was men.

“Whizzer, are you alright? What, Tom Hanks not doing it for you?” Mendel asked, his gaze trained on the screen as his hand delved into a bowl of salted popcorn.

“I don’t think there’s a person alive Tom Hanks doesn’t do it for,” Whizzer muttered, feeling far too restless to interact with Mendel, of all people. 

Mendel turned to stare at him, his thoughtful, prying eyes making Whizzer wonder if the man knew more than he let on. Whizzer covered his anxiety with a scoff. “What—”

There was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that’ll be Trina and Marv,” Charlotte said cheerfully, jumping up from her seat to get the door.

Whizzer resolutely stared forward, determined to not look Marvin’s way. He could hear the latch on the door being undone, followed by enthusiastic greetings from both parties. The pleasantries from Trina went in one ear and right out the other, her voice spiking his anxiety. If Marvin was there at all, he hadn’t said a word.

In the next moment, it became clear that, indeed, Marvin was here. A sudden intake of breath took Whizzer off-guard, causing him to instinctively turn to find Marvin a few feet away, rooted to the spot and staring at Whizzer with wide, blue eyes. 

The first thing he noticed was how appallingly Marvin was dressed, having almost forgotten the fact in his absence. The oversized dad sweater and loose, unfashionable pants only served as a reminded that _this_ was the same Marvin he’d been thinking about for days on end, the same Marvin he’d been inexplicably missing and the same Marvin who’d been the cause of countless sleepless nights. Despite the apparel he was donning, it didn’t take long for Whizzer to begin imagining what was under all those clothes. 

His eyes came to rest on Marvin’s face, on the taut skin and the mess that was his hair. The eyes rimmed with dark circles. The upset mouth downturned.

It seemed time had slowed. Whizzer’s brain appeared to have lost any and all inclination to turn away, his unmoving gaze trained on Marvin. His Marvin. 

God, he missed him. 

“Whizzer,” Marvin breathed and Whizzer’s heart ached.

It was only when he began to feel several pairs of confused eyes on him that he looked away. He didn’t need to look to know Cordelia was watching the pair closely with concern.

Marvin must’ve felt their eyes too as he shook himself from his stupor, gingerly making his way over to the other side of the room and sitting on the opposite end of the couch to Whizzer.

He was brought back to the present by Trina’s voice. “I brought candy,” she smiled, holding up several bags and seating herself on the other couch. 

It seemed everybody but Whizzer and Marvin had slipped into discussion already, talking and laughing as Whizzer couldn’t help glancing back at Marvin, at that tired, sad face. 

Minutes passed and they decided to resume the film, or else—according to Cordelia’s incessant whine—they’d _never_ make it to Sixteen Candles. The movie, itself, passed by in a blur, Whizzer sitting stiff as a board on the _same_ couch as Marvin and allowing his eyes to slip in and out of focus. After what he felt a prudent period of time, he excused himself, stating he was going to fix himself a drink and making his way into the kitchen. 

Not even a minute later, he heard Marvin mumble something to Trina about doing the same before following Whizzer through the door into the kitchen.

Whizzer felt the blood rushing in his ears as he heard the door shut behind them. In an instant, he was pinned against the wall, one of Marvin’s hands gripping his wrist in a vice grip above his head and the other moving to his jaw, their bodies flush against one another.  

He felt the familiar stirrings of heat in his groin.

“We need to talk,” Marvin hissed abruptly, his eyes dark and grip absolute.


	15. Leave Me, Love Me

The sensation of Marvin’s body flush against, his own pressed to a wall and an arm pinned above his head was by no means unfamiliar to Whizzer. 

Marvin’s hand felt hot on his jaw. His body felt hotter. It felt like a lifetime since he’d had Marvin so close. He resented the tingles in the back of his thighs and the way he felt short of breath almost instantly. 

Marvin wasn’t much better. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping it together. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched you,” he breathed, his breath hot on Whizzer’s face, adding to the list of things making his body feel as if it had been set on literal fire. 

Whizzer wasn’t sure he could move away. If he had the strength, or even the _willpower_ to. Surely if something felt so _right,_ it must be. Having Marvin pressed against him once again felt inevitable, like this was simply the natural progression of things, how it was supposed to be. Why deny himself when it felt so undeniably _good?_

Marvin’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. It seemed whatever plans he’d formulated about talking had been entirely forgotten, the feel of Whizzer’s hot body against his own taking precedence. “I’ve missed you so much.” Marvin’s hand gripped his wrist then and he brought Whizzer’s palm from the wall and laid it on the bulge of his pants. “This is what you do to me,” he whispered hotly, weakly, as if his strength had been zapped the second he’d come into contact with the other man.

The touch was like a dousing of cold water. He ripped his hand from Marvin’s hold and pushed him back, causing Marvin to stumble away from him. “No,” he snapped. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

Marvin’s eyes were dark and wild. “Since when?”

“Since I fucking ended things with you,” Whizzer hissed.

Marvin laughed, cold and sharp. _“Bullshit_ you ended things with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I distinctly recall going over to your fucking apartment and _telling_ you I didn’t want to see you anymore. So, tell me then, what the fuck was that?”

“A fucking mistake,” Marvin said angrily. “You _proposed_ the _vague_ idea that we should _maybe_ not see each other anymore, and then we discussed it and came to the conclusion that that was a really fucking bad idea.”

“Oh, we discussed it, did we?” Whizzer narrowed his eyes. “No, we discussed nothing. What I recall is you _manipulating_ me and _informing_ me that we _weren’t_ ending things. Against my will, might I add.” 

“Oh, what, and you’re not a grown fucking man that can make his own decisions? Bullshit, Whizzer, if you wanted to end things with me, you would’ve, plain and simple.”

“I tried! You didn’t give me the option!” He said incredulously.

Marvin looked like he was going to blow a fuse. “No, you know what, just because you’re _weak,_ doesn’t mean you get to blame this on me.”

“I’m weak? _I’m_ weak?” He laughed emptily, gesticulating towards himself. “You’re the one who’s so fucking desperate for _any_ type of interaction with me because you’re too fucking scared to go out and find another man you want to fuck! So I’m just _expected_ to be here, at your beck and call to fulfill your fucking needs because you refuse to find it from elsewhere!”

“I don’t _want_ to fuck any other man, I only want to fuck you!”

“Oh, you are so full of shit. How can someone so smart be so fucking stupid? Telling yourself that _I_ fall into a different category to every other man in the world is the most ridiculous, empty-headed fucking logic I’ve ever heard. I am a male and I have XY chromosomes and if you thought to use your fucking head for even a _second,_ you’d see that you don’t like having sex with women and you _do,_ in fact, like having sex with men!”

“You know what, I’m not discussing this with you! How about we discuss the fact that you ignored every single one of my voicemails?”

“Oh, what, the countless pathetic voicemails you left begging me to call you back? Did you seriously think, ‘Oh, seventeenth time lucky, Whizzer will pick up this time?’”

“Maybe! I don’t know,” Marvin floundered. “I just _assumed_ you’d have the fucking balls to tell me we were over instead of ignoring me for weeks!”

“You know what, we’re going in circles here, I _did_ tell you and just because you didn’t get the message doesn't mean I didn’t make it explicit we were over. And anyway, if I got anywhere  _near_ you, I knew you wouldn't _let_ me break up with you! Not that it would _be_ a breakup because we were never even dating _in the first place.”_ _  
_

Marvin laughed coldly. “We weren’t dating, huh? What do you call coming over to my apartment every fucking night and eating dinner with me and having long conversations with me and having sex with me? Oh, what’s that? Yeah, that’s what I call fucking dating.”

“I made it _very_ clear that we were never together, I purposely never stayed around your apartment—”

“That’s not the only fucking thing that defines a relationship, Whizzer!”

“—and I told you countless times that you were always just a screw for me!”

“Oh, you know what, I am so _sick_ of your bullshit. You try to act as if you don’t give a shit about me and you never _have_ given a shit about me, but you asked me about my day and I asked you about yours and I’m interested in listening to you talk about shit and I know that doesn’t sound like a lot but it’s a hell of a lot more than I’m willing to do for most people! You fucking like me too, you’re just too fucking scared to admit it! At least I’m not a coward afraid to say my feelings!”

“No, you’re just the coward too scared to admit you like having sex with males!” He snapped. He was glad Charlotte’s doors looked reasonably thick and the television’s volume was turned up high, because there wasn’t a single part of him that believed he could keep his voice down right now.

“Tell me you never fucking cared about me,” Marvin hissed then, pushing him against the wall. “Tell me it to my fucking face.”

Staring dead into Marvin’s eyes, Whizzer left no cracks in the blank mask he adopted in that moment. Enunciating each word clearly, he said, “I _never_ cared about you and I _never_ will.”

Something flickered in Marvin’s eyes and he loosened his hold. “You know I don’t buy that for a second, Whizzer. You feel something for me. I know you do.”

Whizzer felt something inside himself snap. “Oh, is that why I’ve slept with a different guy every night since we stopped seeing each other? Because of my _feelings_ for you?”

He definitely glimpsed hurt in Marvin’s expression then. It was gone so quickly he wasn’t unsure whether he’d imagined it. “Course,” he laughed. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you.”

He felt insatiable. He wanted to hurt Marvin like he’d been hurt in his absence. “And why I slept with too many guys to _count_ when we were together?”

Marvin shook his head, his eyes downcast. “You know, I was fucking faithful to you. And loyalty means something to me, Whizzer. I know it doesn't to you, but I guess we’re just different people.”

“Loyalty? “ He let out a genuine laugh then. “You’ve been cheating on your girlfriend of _one whole year._ You’ve said _I love you_ to one another. That’s disgusting.”

“It’s different. It’s so different I can’t even begin to explain it.”

“How?” He said incredulously. “How is it different?”

Marvin paused. “Because I would never have done that to you, Whizzer. What we had was different.”

“I never made any promises to you,” Whizzer said lowly. “I’ve always been honest about who I’ve slept with.”

Marvin laughed emptily. “Right. I guess I just hoped there wouldn’t need to _be_ guys you’ve slept with that you had to be honest about.”

“You just want to believe that I fucking need you, Marvin. That you're everything to me and I depend on you.”

“Is that really so bad?” He asked incredulously. “At least I wouldn’t fucking sleep around and I’d break up with you honestly and wouldn’t be a fucking immature asshole about it and pull the rug out from beneath your very fucking feet!”

“You need fucking closure, Marvin? Well, here it is. I am ending things now. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Well, that’s fucking fine. Great, even. Because I don’t want to see you anymore, either.”

“I mean it, Marvin. No calling me anymore.”

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, Whizzer, you’re not all I think about,” he sneered.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“You know, I’m glad this has happened. I don’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

 _“My_ shit. Right.”

“All I wanted was to be the only guy _you_ wanted. To not have to worry about where you were every night. Was that really too much to ask for?”

“Yeah. I guess it was.”

Marvin looked like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words. He fixed Whizzer with a look. “Just know that this is _it,_ Whizzer. I’m serious. You walk away from this now and we’re done.”

“Thank God. I couldn’t think of anything I want more,” he said coldly, ignoring the flush of guilt he felt as Marvin’s face dropped. His eyes were hard again in an instant.

“You make me sick. I’ll see you around,” Marvin snapped, and without another word, pushed the door open to the living room.

Whizzer simply breathed for a moment, his eyes fixed on the dishes in the sink. He could feel himself crumbling the longer Marvin was out of his sight, deflating like a fucking blow-up toy. _Not here,_ he reminded himself as he felt a lump form in his throat.

He sucked in a breath and plastered on a synthetic smile, holding it in place and praying to God it’d stay put for the evening. He followed Marvin through the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you enjoyed! :) x


	16. Just Remember He's Psychotic

He knew he shouldn’t be dialling Marvin’s number right now.  ****  
** **

He knew he really, _really_ shouldn’t be dialling Marvin’s number right now. And, yet, his fingers appeared to be moving on their own accord, pressing into the five and the three and the eight, and before he knew it, the phone was ringing.  ****  
** **

The slim, blonde man who’d been entertaining him for the past hour wrapped a hand around his left arm, a flamboyant pink cocktail poised in the other. “Who’re you calling, darlin’?” ****  
** **

“M’boyfriend,” Whizzer slurred, grinning as he pressed the phone to his ear, the repetitive noise grounding him as it rang on. And on. After a moment, he rested his ear on the phone, trapped between his shoulder and cheek. What was taking so long? The phone seemed to be ringing _forever._ Did phones normally ring for so long? In his inebriated state, he could’ve sworn he’d never heard so many rings in his entire life. But—wait, it _was_ ringing, right? That’s what that sound was—he better not be so drunk that he’d thought— 

“Hello?” He was interrupted by Marvin’s tired voice through the receiver.  ****  
** **

“Hey, baby,” he leered, adopting a seductive tone of voice. Or, at least, he thought it sounded seductive. In actuality, it was probably closer to horribly drunk and garbled than attractive by any means. ****  
** **

There was a worrying pause on the other end of the phone.  ****  
** **

“It’s Whizzer,” he explained. ****  
** **

“Yeah… I know,” Marvin said.  ****  
** **

Marvin sounded annoyed. He hoped Marvin wasn’t annoyed. He just wanted to _talk_ to him. Just a simple chat.  ****  
** **

“Why are you calling me?” Marvin continued, and—yes—that was definitely irritation he was picking up on. ****  
** **

“I miss you,” he pouted, despite knowing Marvin couldn’t see it. ****  
** **

There was another pause.  ****  
** **

Was the connection bad? Should—should he go outside?  ****  
** **

“Whizzer, are you drunk?” Marvin asked suspiciously. ****  
** **

He scoffed and slid out from the booth he’d been seated in, much to his companion’s disgruntlement, and began making his way towards the door. “No, _mom_ , I am not drunk.” ****  
** **

“Who are you with? Are you with Cordelia?”

He was sidetracked in his mission to leave and ended up at the bar instead. He giggled. “If I was, I’d be watching an _extremely_ erotic episode of ‘Cordelia and Charlotte Get It On Over Her Chemistry Homework’. Baby, I’m kinky, but not _that_ kinky.” ****  
** **

He heard Marvin huff. “So, you’re saying you’re alone?” ****  
** **

“Stop being so _serious,”_ he pouted once again. He hoped Marvin could hear it. “Why don’t we talk about why we don’t talk anymore?”  ****  
** **

He could hear shuffling on the other end, which he assumed was Marvin getting up from bed. He felt a sudden pang of yearning to be in that bed with Marvin, warm and protected and so damn _comfortable._ “You broke up with me, remember?”

“I didn’t _want_ to,” he said sullenly, calling over the bartender to order another drink. ****  
** **

“Actually, Whizzer, I think you did want to,” Marvin said, his voice careful. “I mean, you were _very_ enthusiastic about it.”

“I only said that stuff because I can’t be in a relationship. Like, I _can’t_. Like, it won’t work,” he slurred, speech disjointed.  ****  
** **

“Are you ordering another drink?”  ****  
** **

Marvin sounded concerned. He felt a wave of giddiness come upon him. Marvin was concerned. For him. Marvin was worried about him.  ****  
** **

“You’re worried about me,” he breathed through the receiver, smiling.  ****  
** **

“Where are you?” Marvin asked, his voice stern. More shuffling could be heard through the phone. ****  
** **

His lips quirked. “Why?” ****  
** **

“I’ll come and get you. Do you want me to?” ****  
** **

He suddenly felt arms around his waist from behind, and turned to find the blonde guy from earlier smiling lazily up at him, his cocktail now nowhere to be seen. “Honey, are you almost done over the phone? I thought we could have some fun.” ****  
** **

There was a pause. “Who was that?” ****  
** **

“Uh,” Whizzer blocked the receiver with his hand, turning to the guy. “What’s your name?” ****  
** **

“Brian,” he chuckled.  ****  
** **

“Brian,” he relayed to Marvin. ****  
** **

Marvin sounded annoyed again. “Who is that? I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”  ****  
** **

“Oh, don’t make me _tell_ you,” Whizzer groaned, feigning exasperation despite feeling a well of excitement at the prospect of seeing Marvin. “Definitely not _Hardware_ on 10th.” ****  
** **

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t leave before I get there,” Marvin said briskly before hanging up without another word. ****  
** **

There was no possible way that it was ten minutes until Marvin arrived. Because he _distinctly_ remembered watching the exit, turning back to his drink for a _split_ second, before swivelling in his chair and being greeted by the sight of the other man at the door, looking as dishevelled and handsome as ever.  ****  
** **

The sight made Whizzer immediately grin as he jumped up from his seat, heart pounding as his feet lead him swiftly across the dancefloor. ****  
** **

Marvin’s eyes lit up as Whizzer came into sight, briefly flickering either side of him to make sure he was alone. Which was—of course—the case, what with the attractive blonde man from earlier slinking off instantly once he’d realised Whizzer’s mind was decidedly elsewhere. ****  
** **

The second Marvin was close enough, Whizzer automatically pulled him into his arms as he rested his chin on top of his head, breathing, “hey.” ****  
** **

After a moment’s hesitation, tentative arms slid around his torso to securely wrap around his waist. It didn’t take long for Marvin to relax into the embrace. “Hey.”

Whizzer pulled back reluctantly. “You want a drink?” ****  
** **

“No, I’m good. I’m driving us back.”

“You can drive?” Whizzer baulked, jaw dropping open.  ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a strange look. “Of course I can drive, how’d you think I got here, flying carpet?” ****  
** **

“I just thought any sane human being would’ve had the brain capacity to mention that instead of letting _me_ drive us everywhere!”  ****  
** **

Marvin laughed. “What can I say, watching you manage to turn a simple drive around the block into a near-death experience was just too tempting of an opportunity to pass up.” ****  
** **

“Wow, Marv. Never took you for a risk-taker,” he bit his lip, grinning and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s kinda hot.” ****  
** **

Marvin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Come on,” he said, tugging Whizzer by the hand out of the crowds and into the streets. ****  
** **

Not even a minute had passed before they were in Marvin’s car, the fluorescent street lights of New York City passing him by from outside the car window. ****  
** **

He felt a thrumming under his skin at Marvin’s proximity, a strange exhilaration at being so close to the other man. He wanted more of that feeling. ****  
** **

A thought occurred to him. “Can we get ice cream?”  ****  
** **

Marvin pulled a face. _“Ice cream?_ Whizzer, I don’t even know an ice cream _place_ around here.”

“I’ll direct us!” ****  
** **

“Sure you’re sober enough to do that?” Marvin laughed, side-eyeing him as his hands gripped the wheel. ****  
** **

“No,” he met Marvin’s eyes, a little smile on his lips. “But you’ll do it anyway.” ****  
** **

“I hate how you’re right,” Marvin pursed his lips, and then proceeded to follow Whizzer’s directions all the way to the door of a garish, retro ice cream bar, complete with plush leather booths and cerulean walls. ****  
** **

“Jesus, it’s bright in here,” Marvin squinted as he pushed the door open.  ****  
** **

Whizzer grinned, threading their fingers together and pulling Marvin to the counter. ****  
** **

An attractive, twenty-something year old man stood behind the counter, looking far too chipper for somebody manning the till of an ice cream parlour on a Friday night. His teeth gleamed under the lights as he smiled at the pair. “Hey, there! What can I get for you?” ****  
** **

Whizzer rested his chin on Marvin’s shoulder from behind. “Strawberry, please,” he said happily, flashing a dazzling grin Marvin’s way. ****  
** **

Marvin looked like he trying not to laugh. “Two small tubs, one chocolate and one strawberry, please,” Marvin said, opening up his full wallet. ****  
** **

“But I want regular,” Whizzer pouted. Across the counter, the guy chuckled. ****  
** **

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Regular for the child,” he said dryly, handing the guy a ten. Whizzer smiled. ****  
** **

“Coming right up,” the guy grinned, eyes warmly flicking to Whizzer before leaving, reappearing not even a minute later with their tubs.  ****  
** **

They thanked the guy and made their way to a booth near the back.  ****  
** **

Whizzer was beginning to believe it wasn’t the alcohol making him feel quite so light. He didn’t remember the last time he simply stared at somebody across the table purely for the joy _of_ staring at them. Jesus. He hoped to God he wasn’t turning into some sort of sap. ****  
** **

“This is good,” Marvin hummed around a spoonful of ice cream, spoon still wedged between his lips. ****  
** **

“I know, right,” he responded. “We should get ice cream more often.”

Marvin was quiet then. “Whizzer, we’re not together any more.”

“Yeah, this is seriously delicious,” he said quickly. “Wanna spoon?” He smirked, scooping a generous spoon and giving Marvin a saucy look. ****  
** **

“Go on, then,” he smiled. He was taken off-guard as Whizzer delivered it directly into his mouth, but hummed in appreciation in response to Whizzer’s hopeful look nonetheless. “Want some of mine?” ****  
** **

Eagerly, he nodded as Marvin made sure not to let any drip, pushing the spoon into his wide open mouth. Not for the first time that night did he get a sense of déjà vu. Only it wasn’t ice cream he’d been lapping up. And they hadn’t been clothed. ****  
** **

He moaned around the spoon pointedly, giving Marvin a filthy look.  ****  
** **

Marvin abruptly jerked his hand back, coughing pointedly. “So, anyway, uh. That guy at the cash register sure seemed interested in you.” ****  
** **

“He did?” Whizzer asked, genuinely surprised. ****  
** **

“Yeah,” Marvin said cautiously. “Wasn’t bad looking, either.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Whizzer said absently, tongue flicking over the spoon. ****  
** **

Marvin looked pleased. He ducked his head as he spooned another mouthful of ice cream into his mouth. After a few moments, he noticed Whizzer’s staring and rested his tub on the table, chuckling, “What?” ****  
** **

“What?” Whizzer said innocently.  ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a quizzical look before starting on his ice cream again.  ****  
** **

“You look cute when you eat ice cream,” Whizzer said impulsively.

“What kind of a compliment is that?” Marvin laughed. ****  
** **

“A compliment’s a compliment, Marvin. Take it or leave it.” ****  
** **

“Huh. You know what, thank you, Whizzer, I had no idea,” he said dryly, eyes locked on his tub as he took another spoon. ****  
** **

Whizzer groaned in exasperation. “C’mon, _converse_ with me.” ****  
** **

“I _am_ conversing with you,” Marvin argued.  ****  
** **

“Well, you’re a real fucking lame conversationalist if this is what you call a conversation.” ****  
** **

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Well, fine, Whizzer—what is it you want to talk about?” ****  
** **

“Well, I don’t know. _Something._ I literally know nothing about you! I don’t even know when your goddamn birthday is, Marvin—that’s embarrassing. I mean, considering we were ‘dating’, as you like to call it, for over a month, I think I should at _least_ know that.” ****  
** **

“That stuff’s irrelevant,” Marvin frowned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Okay, sure, I may not know your favourite colour or how old you were when you started to walk, but I know _you,_ Whizzer. I’m not making a fact file about an animal, I’m learning the _essence_ of a real life human being here.” ****  
** **

He crossed his arms, “First of all, wow. That was real fucking corny. And secondly, would it really kill you to get to know me?” ****  
** **

“I _do_ know you, Whizzer. But if you insist—well, what do you want to do when you grow up?” ****  
** **

“Straight to the point, wow.” He paused, thinking. “I guess photography doesn’t make me want to stick my head in an oven and do a Sylvia Plath.” ****  
** **

Marvin raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting. Such a pretty face and you want to be _behind_ the camera? Seems like wasted potential.” ****  
** **

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve always done it, really,” he explained. “My mom used to make me take the photos for pointless family occasions. And, well, I guess it made me hate spending time with my family a little less when we were separated by a lens. It’s fun, too. I like capturing the _life_ of life, you know?” ****  
** **

Marvin rested his head on his palm and smiled. “Who knew drunk you was so much more eloquent than sober you. I like you talking about the things you like.”

“That’s because most of the time I’m talking about your dick,” he smirked. ****  
** **

Marvin laughed. “Touché.” ****  
** **

“And you, Marv?” He leaned in, elbows resting on the table. “What do you want to do when _you_ grow up? Stockbroker? Accountant?” He widened his eyes. “Eighth grade math professor?” ****  
** **

Marvin gave him a short look before taking a thoughtful bite of his ice cream, shrugging. “I mean, I like poetry.” ****  
** **

“Oh, Marvin, you do? Oh, really? I _never_ would’ve guessed,” he laughed.  ** **  
****

Marvin gave him a look. “Yes. Shut up.” Looking downwards, he furrowed his brow. “I like performing, too. Acting. I was cast in all the productions at my old school. It’s fun, you know. Takes you out of yourself,” he said quietly before his eyes flicked up to Whizzer’s. “And before you say anything, I’m not going to do that for, like, my profession or anything. That’d be like signing my life away.”

Whizzer blinked. “Why not? It’s what you’re interested in. Signing your life away would be ending up in some dull, corporate job you have zero interest in.” ****  
** **

“I just—I’m not delusional. I know how difficult it is to get into a profession like that. And I’m good at other things, too. Like math. Just because it makes me feel like slamming my head against a wall… _Hard,_ and multiple times, isn’t going to stop me from pursuing it as a career.”

“Oh my God, this is so depressing, let’s talk about something else.” ****  
** **

Marvin laughed. “You literally dragged that out of me and _now_ you want to change the subject? Wow, you really were interested in getting to know me.” ****  
** **

He felt a pang in his heart. “Don’t say that.” ****  
** **

Marvin’s lips quirked. “You’re a sensitive drunk.”  ****  
** **

“You’re an insensitive sober,” he crossed his arms.  ****  
** **

Marvin chuckled and leaned in. “Okay, okay, before you cry—what _is_ your favourite colour?” ****  
** **

He thought for a moment. “Green, I guess. What’s yours?” ****  
** **

“Blue.”

“Boring,” Whizzer laughed.  ****  
** **

Marvin squinted incredulously. “How can a colour be boring? How is blue more boring than green?” ****  
** **

“Oh, _now_ who’s going to cry.” ****  
** **

“You’re so annoying,” Marvin rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh.  ****  
** **

Whizzer laughed, grabbing Marvin’s hands in his own. “Tell me your life story, Marvin.” ****  
** **

“You want to hear the long version or the short version?” Marvin raised an eyebrow. ****  
** **

“How long’s the long version?” ****  
** **

“Too long to have with someone as drunk as you are.” ****  
** **

And so Marvin told him. The short version. He told him about the first time he learned to ride a bike, his mom disinterestedly watching from the other side of the road. About how he thought he’d gotten the hang of it just as the bike began to skid and he was thrown off, knees grazed and eyes beginning to well up. And when he’d turned back to call for his mom, she’d gone back inside. He told him about the first time he’d received a good grade in school, how the news of his academic achievement retained his father’s attention longer than anything had before. About how he continued to try hard in school. Harder than most kids should at that age, staying in to study for his mental maths test a week in advance instead of playing out with the other kids on his street. He told him the first time a boy tried to hold his hand in fifth grade, about how he’d been so terrified that he’d told his dad that night, who ended up complaining to the school about the disgusting, depraved things that had been forced on his little boy. He told him about his favourite foods. Why he loved chess so much. How he only drank black coffee in the presence of other people, adding full-fat milk and at _least_ one spoonful of sugar when alone in his apartment. He told him how he’d first met Trina, how it felt unfamiliar to be treated with so much care. And how, for a while, he’d thought he wasn’t lying when he told her he loved her.  ****  
** **

It seemed like hours passed sitting opposite one another in that booth, swapping stories and laughing carelessly, honestly, until that perpetual frown on Marvin’s forehead had dissipated completely.  ****  
** **

“I can’t believe your favourite Philip Roth is American Pastoral. You are so _basic_ ,” Whizzer grinned.  ****  
** **

Marvin gaped. “American Pastoral is a work of literary genius! Not all of us can get off to masturbating into apple cores and pieces of liver!” ****  
** **

“Hey, Portnoy is ten times the man you’ll ever be. And if it makes you feel any better, Mickey Sabbath is a close second.” ****  
** **

“It really, really doesn’t, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless,” Marvin chuckled. ****  
** **

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he couldn’t stop smiling at Marvin, his eyes transfixed on that beautiful, happy face. It was as if all the shit they’d been through had suddenly become obsolete, leaving him wondering why he wasn’t with this person everyday anymore. ****  
** **

God. He really was beautiful. ****  
** **

They were interrupted by a cheery, blonde waitress appearing at their booth. “Sorry to disturb you, fellas, but we’re closing in five minutes,” she smiled before leaving.  ****  
** **

Marvin sobered up a little, his smile fading. “Guess I better get you home.” ****  
** **

A sudden desperation took over him. “I don’t want to go back to the apartment.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer, you need to go home, let’s not argue about this—” ****  
** **

“No,” He put his hand on Marvin’s cheek to shut him up, sliding around to the back of his neck as he leaned in. Marvin’s voice caught in his throat. “I want to go home with _you_.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer, you can’t,” Marvin breathed. ****  
** **

“Please, I want to,” he mumbled. “Let me stay.” ****  
** **

He could see Marvin crumbling before him. “We-we promised… I said—” ****  
** **

He brushed his lips against Marvin’s. “Please.”

Marvin let out a shuddery breath. “Fuck it. Come on,” he said, standing up and lacing his fingers through Whizzer’s.  ****  
** **

He felt warmth bloom in his chest, so suddenly and inexplicably excited about spending the night with Marvin. ****  
** **

When they got back to Marvin’s apartment, they collapsed onto the couch, sleepy and content. He put his head in Marvin’s lap as they watched old reruns of Bewitched, eyes glazed and unfocused.  ****  
** **

He made no word of protest when Marvin laid a hand on his head, slowly beginning to comb through his hair. It felt so inexplicably good his eyes instantly fluttered closed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been treated so gently, so tenderly. The sensation of Marvin’s fingernails lightly scraping against his scalp, sifting through strands of hair from root to end felt so incredibly _nice_ he could feel himself humming in contentment. ****  
** **

Marvin’s hand paused. “Are you… Purring?” ****  
** **

“Shh,” Whizzer hushed him, touching Marvin’s hand with his own and encouraging it to continue moving.  ****  
** **

Tentatively, Marvin’s other hand moved to rest by his hand. Without hesitation, Whizzer laced their fingers together. ****  
** **

He must’ve fallen asleep because he was awoken a little while later by Marvin quietly whispering that they had to go to the bedroom.  ****  
** **

Wordlessly, Marvin picked him up bridal-style, and began moving him into the bedroom. ****  
** **

Whizzer smiled sleepily. “I knew you could pick me up.” ****  
** **

Marvin hushed him before placing him on the bed.  ****  
** **

“Undress me,” Whizzer said, eyes still shut.  ****  
** **

He could feel Marvin hesitate. “Whizzer, no—you-you’re almost asleep—I couldn’t possibly—” ****  
** **

“No, I’m uncomfortable, I want to go to sleep,” he huffed in amusement.  ****  
** **

“Oh,” Marvin said, and then proceeded to methodically begin unbuttoning his shirt, swiftly followed by his belt and his shoes, until he was in nothing more than his boxer briefs. Marvin reciprocated the action and, a moment later, they were laying side-by-side in bed. ****  
** **

Whizzer immediately rolled over so that his cheek was pressed to Marvin’s bare chest, one of his legs strewn over Marvin’s and an arm around his torso like some goddamn limpet. ****  
** **

Marvin chuckled quietly. “We’re going to be so hot when we wake up.” ****  
** **

Whizzer didn’t respond. Marvin wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer and letting out a deep sigh of contentment. The two of them entwined so intimately, skin-on-skin, was a sensation he didn’t know how he’d ever gone without. ****  
** **

It felt heavenly. Marvin was heavenly. ****  
** **

He could feel himself drifting off as Marvin’s breaths, too, became deeper and more regular. ****  
** **

Whizzer wasn’t sure he’d remember what he said next.  ****  
** **

“Just so you know... I do like you. Too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! really hoping all of my updates will still be as frequent as usual as there is SO much work I need to do for school in the coming weeks. it will probably be fine though ahah!  
> leave a comment if you enjoyed, I appreciate them soso much :) x


	17. Who Would I Be?

Winter break was the calm before the storm. ****  
** **

Since what Whizzer liked to refer to as The Drunk Midnight Craving Debacle, it was undeniable the dynamic of their relationship—if you could call it that—had shifted. ****  
** **

They still fought. Incessantly. They still liked to tease and nip and lash out at one another. But—when they teased, it was lined with affection, and when they fired cruel, biting remarks, it was with the knowledge that there was nowhere they’d rather be. ****  
** **

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Marvin hummed, fingers lightly tracing over his bare collarbone.  ****  
** **

He flicked his eyes up to meet Marvin’s, noting his vacant, thoughtful expression. “You’re leaving right after me.” ****  
** **

“I know. It just sucks, is all.”

He smiled playfully, sidling closer to Marvin. “What’s got you so down? I haven’t seen you this morbid since you put your red socks in with your white wash,” he joked. When Marvin didn’t smile, he sobered. “You worried about seeing your parents?” ****  
** **

“Aren’t you?” Marvin countered.  ****  
** **

“I am,” he shrugged. “But it’s not as if I have anything to lose. They don’t respect me and I don’t respect them. I’m only going because of Becky, anyway.” ****  
** **

“You’re lucky to have her,” Marvin mused. ****  
** **

Whizzer felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He rolled over so he was propped up on his elbows, facing the other man. “Come on,” he smiled, “you don’t seriously want to waste our last day together talking about _parents,_ do you? I can think of something we’d enjoy a lot more which is _definitely_ not parent-approved,” he smirked, hand teasingly gliding down Marvin’s stomach. ****  
** **

Marvin gripped his wrist, a grin finally gracing his features. “You’re incorrigible.”

He pulled himself upwards so he was eye level with Marvin and hummed. “Hm, sexy, though.”

“I never said you were sexy,” Marvin fixed him with an amused look. ****  
** **

“Your dick says otherwise.” He flicked his eyes to Marvin’s tented boxers. ****  
** **

In a flash, Marvin had Whizzer pinned to the mattress, wrists above his head. Whizzer yelped, delighted and feeling his arousal growing by the second. “What am I going to do with you?” Marvin said amusedly. ****  
** **

Whizzer was fully grinning at this point, white teeth on display as he ground his erection into Marvin’s own hardness teasingly. “What are you going to do with me, Mr. Marvin?” ****  
** **

Marvin searched his eyes, his own gleaming with warmth. His smile began to fade, a more earnest expression replacing the mirth in his eyes. Whizzer could feel his own softening at the sight.  ****  
** **

Marvin suddenly took him into his arms, wrapping both arms around him, face tucked into the crook of Whizzer’s neck, breathing deeply. ****  
** **

“You okay, Marv?” Whizzer asked softly. ****  
** **

He could hear Marvin swallow. A moment of silence passed between them. And then, in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, “I am.” ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

Spending the holidays at home practically _guaranteed_ a torturous Winter break.  ****  
** **

He hadn’t taken the decision lightly to return home; after all, it was hardly as if his parents would’ve cared in the slightest if they’d seen him or not, and he wasn’t in any position to disagree with the sentiment. And yet—he needed to see his sister.  ****  
** **

Which is how he found himself waiting outside his front door, a suitcase packed for three weeks and a cramp in his leg from how hard he’d been tensing on the flight over. His palms moistened around the handle. ****  
** **

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal a woman. At first, he almost didn’t recognise her, what with her face having been ironed flat with the sheer volume of botox which had been injected into her skin. It was almost unbelievable how dissimilar she looked from the woman who’d raised him as a child, a woman who’d had deep lines in her forehead and was well on her way to being fifty years old. His mother stood at the doorway, blonde hair at the same shoulder length it had always been, wearing the same intentionally blank stare she’d always worn. The only difference was now it was cosmetic.   ****  
** **

“Mom,” he greeted, the word sounding more like a question that he’d intended it to. ****  
** **

Her lips quirked at the edges whilst the rest of her face remained unmoved. “Oh. Hello, Thomas. Do come in.” ****  
** **

Whizzer pressed his lips together as he rolled his case through the hallway, following this stranger into a house which seemed more like something from a bad fever dream than his home. He noted the other suitcase in the hallway. “Is Becky here already?” ****  
** **

“She is,” his mom responded blandly, making her way to the dining room. “Your sister doesn’t think being fashionably late it ‘trendy’ like you appear to.” ****  
** **

A familiar weight pressed upon his chest. “Mom, I’m only ten minutes late. I came straight from the airport.” ****  
** **

“And dinner’s already on the table,” she said breezily as she pushed open the door to reveal his father, tight-lipped and stern as ever, sitting at one end of the table, and his sister sitting beside him, the only source of buoyancy in the room. Immediately, he felt himself perk up. “Becky!” ****  
** **

She shot out of her seat and into his arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Whiz!” ****  
** **

His throat constricted suddenly, the extent to which he’d truly missed her dawning on him. They had always been close growing up, and her quiet familiarity, the comfort her presence brought in contrast to the iciness of his parents, caused a lump to form in his throat. ****  
** **

He pulled back, unable to stop the genuine smile stretching across his face. “It’s so good to see you.” ****  
** **

“I know it is,” she teased, the emotion in her eyes no doubt mirroring his. ****  
** **

His father coughed pointedly, the show of affection undoubtedly resonating as unnecessary and uncomfortable with him. As it always had. “Welcome home, Thomas. Your dinner’s getting cold.” ****  
** **

He took a look at his father, noting the blatant lack of eye contact and the ramrod posture, the lack of emotion in his expression and the harsh lines of his face. “Hey, dad.” He tried to sound like he’d missed him. Like he’d thought about him with the slightest scrap of affection in the last year. He drew a blank.  ****  
** **

Regrettably, he took a seat between his parents. “This looks great,” he commented, taking a stab at jubilant and ending up with a voice ridden with dejection and thinly-veiled nerves.  ****  
** **

“It took me all day,” his mom responded, cutlery poised delicately between thin fingers as she meticulously began cutting a boiled potato into segments small enough that there was no need to move her face at all. ****  
** **

He tentatively began cutting into his steak, the pit in his stomach protesting as he began quickly eating in the hopes that the faster he ate, the sooner he could leave the table. It’s not as if they wanted him here. It’s not as if _he_ wanted to be here. The longer the loaded silence stretched on, the longer he began to believe he’d be able to escape with no conversation at all— ****  
** **

“So,” his mom began, dashing any hopes he’d had of escaping unscathed from the imminent onslaught. “How’s college? ****  
** **

“It’s… You know. College,” he said, attempting to liven the mood and immediately regretting the decision. He caught Becky smiling a little across the table. “But, no, yeah. It’s good. I’m really enjoying it.” ****  
** **

“And how is the… Media studies? Art history?” ****  
** **

“Photography, mom,” he said tightly. “Yeah… It’s going alright. I’ve got my final piece almost done. I’ve taken up this Poetics class, actually, and it’s really—” ****  
** **

“Honey, could you pass the salt?” She asked Becky, quickly losing interest in his answer. ****  
** **

“And how’s the car?” His dad asked, vigorously cutting into his steak, gaze on his own plate. Whizzer mused that the sheer effort required for his father to even _attempt_ to sound interested must’ve been beyond ground-breaking. ****  
** **

“I mean, it’s still going, if that’s what you’re asking,” he shrugged. ****  
** **

His father did look up then. “You could be a little more grateful. That car wasn’t free.” ****  
** **

“Well, no, no, of course—don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I have it, of course I am. But, you have to admit, that car is piece of _crap_.” ****  
** **

“Don’t curse at the table, Thomas,” he snapped suddenly. “You know we don’t curse at the table.” ****  
** **

Pressing his lips together, he nodded. “Right, sure. Sorry.” He coughed. “So, uh, what’s been going on over here?” ****  
** **

“Your father’s been hard at work, Becky’s been preoccupied with her drama group, I’ve been going to my Pilates class. Found a new lasagne recipe I’d like to try out. Not much has changed since you left, really. I certainly didn’t notice any difference,” his mom said. And, he knew she must’ve lost all sensitivity in her face, but _surely_ telling a child that life was more or less unaffected by their absence couldn’t be excused by the Botox. ****  
** **

“Wow, glad to hear it,” he said dryly. ****  
** **

A beat of silence passed. “So, any girls you’re interested in up at that school?” His father asked, resuming cutting into his steak. “It would be nice to have a girl around. Who knows, she might actually bring you down to Earth,” he chuckled, a dark, lowly little thing.  ****  
** **

His heart sank to the floor. “Girls?” ****  
** **

“Yes. Girls,” his dad looked up. He could feel Becky’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. “Or are you too shy to talk about them? Afraid we won’t think of you as the manly Thomas Brown anymore if you have a crush?”  ****  
** **

What was ridiculous was the sudden wetness that came to his eyes at that. It was ridiculous, he _knew_ it was ridiculous. His dad was just trying to get a rise out of him, he wasn’t worth a _second_ of Whizzer’s time. And yet, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the number of conversations they’d had about Whizzer’s sexuality, and, more importantly, his father’s inability to accept Whizzer’s sexuality.  ****  
** **

“Dad…” He began, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the tension suddenly skyrocketing in the room. “I don’t _like_ girls.” ****  
** **

He laughed. It was perhaps the most Whizzer had ever heard the sound. “Sure you do. Don’t worry, I’m not going to force it out of you. You’ll bring her home when you’re ready."

He felt a tingle down his spine, a sudden irritation coiling tight in his stomach, making him feel out of control and off-kilter. “No, dad,” he set his cutlery down. “I like _men_.” ****  
** **

His father didn’t respond. It was as if he’d expected the answer, calmly resuming to eat his meal. And if he had, why the pretence in the first place? There was no indication he’d heard Whizzer at all. “So, Becky, here’s, been doing great in her drama club. Tell him, Becky.” ****  
** **

Tentatively, Becky frowned before beginning to speak. “Um—yeah. It’s been going great, actually. We’ve started rehearsals for _Grease 2,_ because—you know—we did _Grease_ last year, of course, and my teacher’s weirdly obsessed with Randal Kleiser movies.”  ****  
** **

Temporarily pushing aside his frustration with his father, he grinned. “Oh, no way. Do you have a Michael already? And a Stephanie?”

She grinned proudly. “Why, _thank you_ for asking. Stephanie is played by none other than yours truly—” ****  
** **

“Oh, wow, congrats!” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s amazing. But, I mean, I’m not surprised—you _were_ always the best.” ****  
** **

“Shut up,” she laughed, no doubt recounting the countless times in which she’d been cast as _Chorus_ or _Tree #3._ “And this guy, Alex, is playing Michael and—I kid you not—he’s even _hotter_ than the original Michael.” ****  
** **

“Don’t bullshit me, Becky, that’s not physically possible,” he grinned. ****  
** **

“Language, Thomas,” his mom reprimanded.  ****  
** **

“Oh, God,” Becky laughed suddenly. “I remember what an unbelievably huge crush you used to have on Maxwell Caulfield.” ****  
** **

“What do you mean, _used to?”_ He chuckled. ****  
** **

“You literally never stopped talking about him,” she laughed, reminiscing about the first crush he’d remembered having on a guy. “All about his perfect _hair_ and his perfect _teeth_ —” ****  
** **

“I don’t think this is appropriate talk at the table,” his father said loudly, cutting them off. ****  
** **

Becky tried to protest. “Dad, it’s fine—” ****  
** **

“No, Becky, it’s not _fine._ It’s anything _but_ fine,” he snapped, flushing. ****  
** **

“Don’t provoke your father,” his mom cut in sternly, continuing to eat her dinner as if they were discussing which was the best laundry detergent to use. ****  
** **

“What’s wrong with what we were saying?” Whizzer defended himself. “It was a perfectly innocent conversation—” ****  
** **

“It was anything but an innocent conversation,” he raised his voice. “You… Talking about the disgusting things you’ve been thinking about… I feel no way inclined to indulge these fantasies of yours. If you must, talk about it to your friends. Don’t talk about it here, at the dinner table. Have some common sense, Thomas.” ****  
** **

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have come home. He _knew_ this was what he’d have to endure for three entire weeks. ****  
** **

He pushed himself away from the table. “You know what, I’m not even hungry anymore. May I be excused from the table?” ****  
** **

“Don’t leave your food, Thomas, it’s rude,” his mom said coldly.  ****  
** **

Not heeding her refusal, he brought his plate to the sink briskly before making his way to his old room, all the while ignoring his parents’ demands that he return to the table. ****  
** **

* * *

The fact that he was now a fully grown adult and could still, _still,_ be knocked so easily and have his self-esteem sent exponentially back at the smallest duration of time sent with his parents was nothing short of demoralising. He figured it was inevitable, what with having the idea embedded into him for over a decade that _these_ were the people whose opinions truly mattered. The reality of the situation was laughably different. ****  
** **

A few moments later, his door tentatively creaked open to reveal his sister. She slid onto the bed next to him and offered him a solidary smile. “You had to know they’d be like that.” ****  
** **

“Doesn’t make it any less shitty.” ****  
** **

“True,” she mused before glancing up at him. “You okay?” ****  
** **

“I’ll live. You’re right, I should’ve expected it,” he dismissed the topic.  ****  
** **

Talking about it wouldn’t help. He’d already talked about it. Countless times. And, from his experience, it solved _nothing_ and forced him to linger upon something he had zero interest in revisiting. He’d spent long enough confused, and now that he wasn’t, he _refused_ to be pushed back into that mindset. ****  
** **

She gave him a look that clearly articulated how she wasn’t buying into his bullshit, but wasn’t about to call him out on it either. Fortunately, she changed the topic. “Well, how is college— _really?_ Any new boys on the scene?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. ****  
** **

He was silent for a fraction too long. ****  
** **

An amused smile spread across her face and her jaw fell open. “Whizzer Brown in _love?” ****  
** **_

He rolled his eyes. _“No,_ I did not say that. There’s a guy.” ****  
** **

“What’s his name?” She asked excitedly. ****  
** **

He hesitated for a moment, wondering momentarily whether it was a good idea to give her any details, knowing how tenacious she was and how temperamental his and Marvin’s ‘relationship’ was. He was speaking before he could stop himself. “Marvin.” ****  
** **

“Jesus, Whiz, how _old_ is he?” She giggled.  ****  
** **

He laughed, thinking of how Marvin would react to that. “He’s a literal _dad._ Makes the corniest fucking dad jokes, too, it’s ridiculous.” ****  
** **

She made a cooing noise. “Oh, look at you. Practically blushing.”

“I’m _not_ blushing!” He protested, feeling his face heat up. Not that it had anything to do with Marvin, of course.  ****  
** **

“Tell me more about him. There are zero heterosexual guys at my drama club and I’m _dying,”_ she smiled, resting her chin on her hands. ****  
** **

“Well, he’s shorter than me,” he began. “He has a ridiculous clothing sense. Like, it’s bad. Uh—he’s loaded. Ridiculously loaded. Like, owns his own island loaded.” ****  
** **

“Oh, _now_ I see why you like him so much,” she teased. ****  
** **

“You know me,” he said, perfectly aware she knew that the fact he’d mentioned Marvin in the first place rendered that impossible. He paused, thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really fucking sweet.”

She smiled honestly at that. “I’m really happy for you.” ****  
** **

“Thanks, Becky,” he quirked his lips a little, before letting the conversation lull for a moment. “Now, about this _Alex_ …” ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

That first dinner set a precedent for the remainder of their meals over the three weeks.  ****  
** **

He would join his family for dinner, attempt to make surface-level conversation, and end up leaving abruptly when his mother would fire a particularly icy comment his way, or his father would mutter something derisive under his breath. ****  
** **

It was just about durable with Becky there. He wasn’t sure he could’ve stuck it out for more than a day if she hadn’t come home too. He and Cordelia had been calling one another frequently, too—she was fortunate in that she had a large family with whom she was close with, so was a surefire way of lifting Whizzer’s spirits after a particularly depressing meal with his family. Even _Mendel_ had been texting him, all too aware that Whizzer had returned home and was indiscreetly digging for material he could use in his psychology thesis. ****  
** **

It was a week until he received a call from Marvin.  ****  
** **

He’d just returned from a run—a pastime he’d become _very_ fond of since he’d been home—when his phone began to ring. Marvin’s name flashing on the screen was the cause of the silly, ridiculous grin which immediately sprang to his face as he picked up the call. ****  
** **

“Took you long enough,” Whizzer smirked. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” ****  
** **

“Like you would ever allow that to happen,” Marvin scoffed. Whizzer felt himself relaxing at the sound of his familiar voice, the deepness causing his toes to curl involuntarily. “Plus, nothing was stopping _you_ from calling _me.”_ ****  
** **

“Uh, yeah,” he responded, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it across the room. “You said you’d have bad cell reception. _Sorry_ that I was just trying to be accommodating to your needs, Princess.” ****  
** **

“Wow, you _actually_ listen to me?” ****  
** **

“Ha ha,” he rolled his eyes.  ****  
** **

Marvin chuckled before sighing. “Jesus, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Laying down on his bed, he pressed his lips together. “Your parents been giving you shit?” ****  
** **

He could hear Marvin sigh again through the phone. “It’s nothing bad, you know… It’s just,” he began. “My mom’s away on a business trip, which she neglected to tell me, despite knowing I was coming home to see them. So, that was, y’know… A nice holiday surprise. And—because mom’s not there, it’s just made me realise how… _Little_ I have in common with my dad. It’s _painfully_ awkward eating dinner with him because we just have _zero_ things to talk about. Stupidly, I thought that, because mom was away, we’d, y’know, really get to _bond_ and shit… And it’s just not like that. At all,” he made a noise of frustration. “But do you want to know what the worst thing is? We just end up sitting at the kitchen table, eating takeout—because Lord _knows_ neither of us can cook—and talking about Trina. About how she _is_ and what she’s _doing_ and what our plans are for the _future,_ and I just…”  ****  
** **

Whizzer paused, cautious. “And what do you say?” ****  
** **

“I say what he wants to hear, Whizzer,” he said, sounding tired. “It’s so much easier than having to explain that I haven’t had sex with Trina for the better part of two months and it’s getting fucking depressing having to hang out with her because I just don’t have the energy for that, you know?” ****  
** **

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on her,” Whizzer said absently.  ****  
** **

Marvin sighed. “I know. It’s not her fault. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m whining. What’s been going on with you?” ****  
** **

“Truthfully? It’s worse than I remember. Literally _every_ sentence that comes out of my mouth my dad takes as some Satanic homosexual shit, like I’m _possessed_ and I’m trying to make _him_ gay. As if being in my very presence is contagious, or… I don’t know, he could _catch_ the gay. It’s stupid,” he let out a breath. ****  
** **

“Your parents are really religious, aren’t they?” Marvin asked. ****  
** **

“My dad is—he’s Catholic. My mom is less so, but yeah, she’s Jewish,” he said dryly. “Ugh—I just—I _hate_ them.” Regardless of the burning frustration he felt, saying the words felt undeniably wrong. A lifetime of growing up under these people forced him to rectify the statement. “Okay, I don’t hate them, I just really, _really_ strongly disagree with every single moral belief they hold. Jesus, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of _talking_ about it.” 

 

Marvin was quiet for a moment. “Your sister’s there, though, right? She’s cool.” ****  
** **

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t here.” ****  
** **

“Have you told her about me?” Marvin asked, and he just _knew_ Marvin was smirking. ****  
** **

_“No,”_ he narrowed his eyes.  ****  
** **

The silence that followed made it painfully clear Marvin didn’t believe him for a second. ****  
** **

“Okay, a _little_ ,” he admitted. ** **  
****

“Like what?” He could feel Marvin grinning. “My caring and genuine personality? My irresistible charm?”

“Actually, it was about your huge cock.”  ****  
** **

“Oh, yeah?” Marvin murmured. “What about it?”

“About how I miss it. How I’ve been laying in bed awake, wishing you were next to me so I could sit on it.” ****  
** **

He knew they were only teasing, but it felt like it had been _forever_ since he and Marvin had had sex, and he truly _did_ miss it. He wasn’t lying about laying awake and thinking about it either. He’d ended up falling asleep after he’d finished into the palm of his hand, thoughts of Marvin lingering in his brain just about every night this week. ****  
** **

He could hear Marvin shift over the phone. “I’ve been missing you, too, baby.”

“I didn’t say I missed you. I said I missed your dick,” he countered, knowing Marvin knew damn well how much he’d missed him.  ****  
** **

“Yeah, but I know what you really meant.” He could hear Marvin shifting a little more through the phone. “What are you doing right now?” ****  
** **

“I’m laying on my bed. I’ve just come home from a run.” ****  
** **

“What are you wearing?” Marvin asked, his voice lowering ever so slightly. “Are you all sweaty?” ****  
** **

“Just my basketball shorts,” he grinned a little, hoping this was headed where he thought it was. He absently placed a hand on his abdomen and began to rub against his chest slowly. “Yeah, I am. All hot and slick and panting for you,” he said teasingly. ****  
** **

Marvin let out a shaky breath. “Don’t tease. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head the entire time I’ve been here. You have no idea how disappointing it was waking up in the morning and rolling over to find you’re not right beside me.” ****  
** **

“Yeah?” ****  
** **

“Yeah,” Marvin breathed. There was a pause. “I’m touching myself thinking about you.”

The bluntness of Marvin’s statement took him off-guard, sending an immediate wave of heat straight to his dick. “You are?” A thought took hold of him and he slowly pushed down his shorts to reveal his bulge, dick thickening by the second. “What would you do if I were there?” ****  
** **

“What would I do if you were here? First of all, I would have fucked you multiple times already. Hard and rough and fucking filthy. I know you like it like that,” Marvin said, his voice thick.  ****  
** **

Whizzer gasped as his cock jerked beneath his fingers. “Would you pull my hair?” ****  
** **

“Whatever you want. It could be soft, too. Deep and intense and so fucking _good,”_ Marvin groaned, breathing heavily down the phone. “Jesus, Whizzer. I want you. I want to feel your skin. I want you under me. I want you in my arms.” ****  
** **

“Did I mention I miss you?” Whizzer moaned a little, his heart thumping in his chest as he stroked himself to the sound of Marvin’s voice. “You wanna know what I like?”  ****  
** **

“What? What do you like, baby? Tell me,” he demanded, sounding strangled.  ****  
** **

“I like how strong you are. I like your thick, _bulging_ muscles lifting me up and fucking me like you own me. Like I’m all for you,” he felt his breathing pace increase just thinking about it. ****  
** **

“You are all for me. I bet you haven’t fucked anyone since you’ve been home. Saving it all for me,” Marvin growled, sounding aroused and feral and so fucking _hot._ “Have you jerked off thinking about me while you’ve been gone?” ****  
** **

“You know I have,” Whizzer whimpered.  ****  
** **

“So have I. You under me. You against the wall. Fucking you in public. Fucking you in your car. You turning down some guy and telling him that it’s _me_ you’re going home with.” Marvin’s words were beginning to slur together, sounding more urgent and causing Whizzer to speed up the pace, feeling impatient and tightly strung, and oh, so _needy._

“Marvin, I need you,” he moaned, his hips lifting from the mattress and his eyes fluttering closed. “God, why aren’t you _here?”_

“You know there’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he defended himself, half-groaning.  ****  
** **

Something about the unexpected sentiment send a wave of arousal to his gut. “Marv, I’m close,” he gasped.

“So am I, baby,” Marvin groaned. “God, you’re everything I want. You’re everything I need.”

“Oh,” he moaned, and a moment later felt himself hurtling over the edge, ecstacy rendering him unable to do anything but breath Marvin’s name. ****  
** **

“Oh, Whizzer,” Marvin moaned, intense and desperate. He was coming a second later, the words spilling out of him like they were just as much of a surprise to him as they were to Whizzer. “God, I love you.” ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

He practically leapt into bed with Marvin the second he arrived at his apartment once he’d come home. ****  
** **

He was pressing Marvin against the wall, their lips meeting fervently, desperately, feeling alive and tingly and a unique type of thrill zipping up and down his spine as Marvin gripped his hips roughly.  ****  
** **

“Fuck, I’m home,” Whizzer murmured in between kisses.  ****  
** **

“Bed. Now.” Marvin demanded, and before he knew it, his clothes were strewn all over the floor and Marvin was devouring him like a man starved.  ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

He knew there’d been a reason why he never used to stay the night at Marvin’s. ****  
** **

As he lay in the soft morning light, warm and tender and sore and feeling so incredibly _fulfilled,_ he wasn’t sure he was physically capable of leaving the bed. ****  
** **

The quiet stillness of the morning was disturbed by Marvin’s stomach beginning to growl loudly, shattering the peace between them. Marvin groaned and Whizzer chuckled.  ****  
** **

“I’ll get us something to eat,” Whizzer whispered and Marvin’s grip tightened around him automatically. ****  
** **

“No,” he groaned. “Don’t leave. Just stay a little while longer.” ****  
** **

“You’re hungry,” Whizzer said quietly, amused.  ****  
** **

“No, I’m not,” Marvin denied petulantly, conveniently interrupted by another growl of his stomach. ****  
** **

Whizzer laughed, slipping out of Marvin’s hold and pulling on his underwear. “I’ll be right back. Two minutes.” ****  
** **

“One minute,” he heard Marvin complain as he left the room, causing him to laugh loudly down the corridor.  ****  
** **

He decided to take a stab at making poached eggs and avocado on toast because he’d seen it on some glamorous television show once, and decided to try it. It’d probably end up tasting like shit, he knew, but it wasn’t as if Marvin wasn’t already _used_ to his cooking. ****  
** **

He was in the process of removing the eggs from the boiling water when there was a ring at the door. He felt sleepy and light and perfectly content. So he answered it. ****  
** **

And there, stood at the door, eyes trailing down his bare chest and tight underwear in shock, was Trina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I hope this chapter was okay? I really can't gauge it, I've been so exhausted with work for school.  
> I will update as soon as I can! leave a comment and let me know what you think :) xoxo


	18. This is The Price

Fuck.

Fuck.

Trina.

Trina was there. Trina in all her prim and put-together glory. 

Scanning down his long, tan legs. Brown eyes wide and unblinking.

Whizzer felt the moisture evaporate from his tongue. 

“Trina,” he said slowly, any and all inflection absent from his tone. 

He felt fairly incapable of speaking. An indecipherable litany of curse words strung together in his brain, circling around his skull.

Trina appeared to have regained the ability to speak, her lips popping open. “Whizzer?” She appeared not to be comprehending what was happening. “What.” The word fell flat and she swallowed. Her brows dipped. He felt worryingly lightheaded. “Why are you… Here?”

A chill ran up over his shoulders. “Here?”

The word hung in the air, an indictment in itself of what he was doing here. 

She opened her mouth and shut it again. 

He was really hoping his brain would start functioning so he could start lying already. First, he would need words. Words would be nice. Any words. Anything at all. “Marvin’s apartment.”

He was beginning to think it was too late to rectify anything. Her eyes darted to his boxer briefs. His bare chest. His struck-dumb expression.

But. 

She hadn’t seen Marvin yet. She knew nothing. 

And suddenly his tongue became unstuck.

“The project.” 

She blinked.

“The poetry project.”

Her gaze fell once more. 

For somebody who spent an inordinate length of time naked, he’d never felt truly as exposed as when she lifted her eyes in that next moment, her face lined with disbelief.

And suddenly he could speak again.

“I took a shower. You know how I am. With… Uh. Cleanliness. I like to be clean. Especially around Marvin. You know how he can be,” he let out a painful blurt of a laugh. “Makes me feel like a neat-freak. I’m not. He’s just messy. Anyway. So, now we’re going to do the poetry. You know. Because,” he forced a grin. “Deadlines.” 

It was bullshit. It sounded like bullshit.

And yet. 

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, the slightest doubt at her own conclusion beginning to show in her expression. “So, you just had a shower?”

He plastered on his most believable, reassuring smile. “Yep. And now, poetry. In fact, I’m glad you arrived because this has made me all the more motivated to finish the project tonight. Speaking of, how’s yours going?”

Yes. This was working. 

Her frown was beginning to lift and her cheeks were regaining the slightest tinge of colour. “Uh, not great,” she gave a small smile. He’d take anything. “I’m nowhere near finished and my partner is refusing to do a scrap of work himself.”

“Oh, don’t you hate that,” he rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Slackers, am I right?” He gave an awkward laugh.

She gave an uneasy laugh right back. “Right.” A lull of silence followed. “Is Marvin here?”

He thought quickly. “You know, he’s actually just decided to go out and get us some food. You know, fuel for the project,” he smiled. “You can wait here until he comes back if you want?” He offered, praying to any deity out there that she wouldn’t take him up on it.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. There was a pause. “Well, actually, I’ve just dropped by to give Marvin his shirt back. He asked me to take it to the dry cleaner’s with my load, but if he’s occupied, do you mind just taking it?” She asked, pushing one of Marvin’s dad shirts into his arms, a painfully unstylish mess of a thing.

He enthusiastically took it from her. “Oh, sure, absolutely! Is that all you’re here for, then?”

She smiled and nodded, having apparently decided to believe the blatant lie. “Yeah, that’s it. Well, it was lovely to see you, Whizzer.”

“Yeah, you too!” His smile was too large. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, we’ll organise something,” she smiled, turning and reaching for the door. He felt his heart leap into his throat. “Tell Marvin I dropped in.”

And then, because Lord knows nothing ever turned out right for Whizzer Brown, Marvin got out of bed.

“Two minutes my ass,” came a booming voice down the corridor. “Am I going to have to manhandle you back into my bed?”

Trina stilled. Whizzer felt his heart fall past his feet. 

And then Marvin was there behind him, clad in nothing more than a pair of black boxers. Ridiculously, Whizzer felt relief wash over him that he’d decided to put anything on at all.

Trina was merely blinking again, her hand still on the door handle. “Marvin?”

He glanced over at Marvin for the first time since he had entered the room.

And Marvin—

Marvin was stood several feet behind him, stock still. He stared unblinkingly at Trina, the colour having almost drained completely from his face.

“Trina, what are you doing here?” He asked, thinly-veiled panic rising in his voice.

She seemed to be dreaming again. “I… Have your shirt.” Her movements slow, she gestured towards the shirt, which was now wrapped around Whizzer’s forearm. 

Marvin directed his gaze to Whizzer for the first time, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. His chest rose quickly. He took a jerky step towards Trina, his hands rising as if soothing a skittish animal. “Trina, whatever you’re thinking—”

And that’s when Whizzer looked at her. _Really_ looked at her. Saw her for what she was. The cracks beginning to form in her exterior. 

And then she knew.

Her eyes glazed over and her lower lip began to wobble, her shoulders falling, inert. Falling apart. “I—I was just leaving.” She swallowed quickly, her words garbled and choked. She turned to Whizzer, painfully smiling and beginning to clumsily push the hanger into her bag. “I’ll see you guys in class, yeah?” She was turning away before the tears could fall. 

And that’s when Marvin made a move. He strode towards her, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. “Trina,” he whispered. She had her head bowed, his powerful arms covering her small frame, pulling her in. Any attempt at pretence had fallen away. “Trina, it was one time,” he continued fervently. “It was only once, Trina.” He kept moving his hand over her back, calming, reassuring movements, whispering over and over again, hushing her. “Trina, it didn’t mean anything. He was just there. It was just sex. I was missing you.” 

And piece by piece, word by word, Whizzer, too, felt himself falling apart. 

They stayed like that for what felt like an age. Whizzer felt the numbness spread through his limbs. And Marvin kept whispering, murmuring words of comfort, morsels of himself which had been meant for Whizzer. 

“I love you,” he said, his words hushed, pressing his lips to her no longer shaking head, her hair, over and over until Whizzer’s eyes fell to the floor and he could no longer look. “I’ll always love you.”

He didn’t quite register the moment Marvin let her go. He missed her weak smile in his direction, promising forgiveness, promising him everything as long as he’d continue whispering for the rest of her life.

He missed the click of the door and the gust of air Marvin exhaled. 

“Christ,” Marvin sighed. “We need to be more careful next time, Whizzer. That could’ve been a lot worse.” Marvin looked at him then, his eyes alight with relief. “Come here,” he said softly. When Whizzer didn’t move, he did himself, walking across the room and pulling Whizzer into his arms. “That scared you, didn’t it. I don’t want you to feel scared like that. You should’ve gone back to my bedroom.” 

Whizzer didn’t say a word and Marvin kept rubbing his back. “Shh, you’re upset,” he murmured. “She’s gone now. We’re okay.”

He felt his stomach revolt. He swallowed. “You need to break up with her.”

The words hung in the air, alone and volatile. 

Marvin pulled back, searching Whizzer’s face. “What? Didn’t you see what happened? She’s okay now. She thinks it was only once. We just need to be more cautious now, is all. And then everything can carry on how it was.”

He pushed feebly at Marvin’s hold on him. “No, Marvin, you don’t understand. You _need_ to break up with her.” 

Marvin began to frown, the slightest hint of irritation beginning to seep into his tone. “Whizzer, everything’s fine. I don’t need to do anything. And neither do you.”

Whizzer laughed hysterically. “Marvin, she’s not going to break up with you. Not ever. Don’t you see what you’re doing to that girl? You’re _ruining_ her. You’re going to ruin her. You need to end it.”

“She’s a big girl and she can make her own decisions,” Marvin narrowed his eyes. “And I treat her _well_ , Whizzer. I’m a good boyfriend to Trina. I’ll only hurt her more by breaking up with her.”

“I don’t think you see what’s wrong in what you’re doing! What _we're_ doing," he stressed. "Why are you so reluctant to break up with her?”

“I just don’t think there’s any real reason for it… It would only raise questions. And then she’d _tell_ people, Whizzer. She’d tell people what we did. You don’t want that, do you?” He asked reasonably, imploring Whizzer to come around.

He shook his head. “Marvin, this is important to me.”

Marvin raised his voice. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!” 

Whizzer’s jaw dropped. “Marvin, I’m a part of this just as much as you are. It’s not fair to Trina. This isn’t _right_ what we’re doing!”

He laughed, incredulous. “When have _you_ ever given a shit about what’s right?”

“Marvin, please. I’m being serious. Break up with her,” he pleaded, stepping towards the other man. “For me.”

“That’s not… _Good_ enough, Whizzer,” Marvin gaped. “You can’t just snap your fingers and get your way.”

Whizzer hadn’t processed his next words before he blurted them out. “But you said you loved me.”

That threw Marvin off. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He took in a breath. “I did,” he said softly. He blinked, moving towards Whizzer, his face earnest. “I do.”

“Then do this for me,” he implored him, taking Marvin’s hands in his own.

Marvin’s face fell, torn. “Why?” He whispered. “Why is this so important to you?"

“Because I don’t just want to be… _Someone_ to you, Marvin… I don’t just want to be...” He felt himself becoming increasingly frustrated as he struggled to articulate what he felt. “Aren’t I enough for you? You don’t even need her!” 

“What…” Marvin stepped backwards. “Whizzer…” 

But Whizzer couldn’t stop. “Break up with her. Please, Marvin. And then it can just be the two of us,” he smiled, filling the gap Marvin left between them. “It can be just the two of us and we don’t need to worry about when I can come to your apartment and we don’t need to feel guilty and we can go out in public together, Marvin! We can actually exit this apartment without leaving a five minute gap between us,” he laughed. “We can sit together in class and go out to dinner instead of ordering takeout. We can go out with our friends and you can kiss me in front of them and it will be _normal_. _We’ll_ be normal.”

Marvin was moving away again. “Whizzer, I can’t do that… That’s not _us_. That’s not what we are.”

Whizzer began to feel a pressure pushing down upon his chest. He felt angry, then. Desperate. “What do you mean, ‘that’s not us’? I thought that’s what we were _now_. That’s what you said to me! Didn’t you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it!” Marvin snapped. 

“You can’t have everything!” 

“I can have whatever I want!”

“You need to decide, Marvin,” he said then. “Because this isn’t enough for me anymore.”

“Whizzer, you can’t just push this! You sleep with other guys all the time!” He exploded.

“Not anymore,” he responded quietly, and Marvin’s jaw slackened. “Not anymore, Marvin.” He paused. “It’s me or her, Marv. You need to decide.”

Marvin took a threatening step towards him. “I’m not playing your games. You’re too angry right now. Calm down and then we can talk.”

“It’s a simple question, Marvin.”

“You know what your problem is, Whizzer?”

He felt his stomach drop, and shook his head slowly. He’d heard enough. 

“I really hope you’re happy together, Marvin.” 

And with that, he pulled on Marvin’s dry-cleaned shirt—the only time he’d ever agree to do so—and made his way to the front door. He reached for the handle and pulled the door ajar.

Marvin’s pushed the door, slamming it shut again. 

Whizzer jumped, taken off-guard. “Let me leave, Marvin,” he said warningly.

“I’m not choosing,” he growled.

“This _is_ your choice. How can’t you see that? You choose _her_ ,” Whizzer laughed humourlessly. 

“I’m not losing you over this, Whizzer,” Marvin hissed, his eyes alight. 

“You’re so set on the idea of having it all that you would rather lose me instead,” he said sadly. “You don’t love me, Marvin. You want to _possess_ me.”

Marvin’s face began to crumble then, beginning to become unstuck, his hands moving upwards to touch Whizzer. Keep him. Make him still. “But Whizzer, I _do._ I do love you, Whizzer. More than anybody else. How don’t you believe me?”

Whizzer smiled a little, rueful, feeling his heart falling to pieces inside his ribcage. Slowly, he moved, pressing his lips to Marvin’s cheek, holding them there. “I really hope one day you’ll be able to choose, Marvin. You could be happy.” 

He felt Marvin’s arms fall from around him, more feeble than he’d ever known them to be.

The door clicked on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to sound like a broken record, but my excuse for not uploading is literally just because I am drowning in work right now!! on the bright side, I have pretty much planned how the rest of the story is going to pan out (lol because I didn't know before and probably should've because that's what good writing is about oops) lol. but yeah leave a comment if you enjoyed!:) xoxo


	19. Everything Will Be Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy this chapter! :D as always, i'll update as soon as possible! <3  
> leave a comment if you liked it x  
> p.s. i know i am so late on this bandwagon but i just finished The Song of Achilles and holy fuck i am actually dying, it was so BEAUTIFUL :'(

Mendel chuckled through a mouthful of noodles and sautéed vegetables, the television screen lighting up his face. He was strewn across the sofa of their apartment, his and Cordelia’s heads knocking as they observed the trainwreck that was the film they were avidly watching. “She _cannot_ be for real. Oh, Jesus. Whizzer, are you watching this? She’s going to cry again. Oh, for the love of God,” he let out an exasperated huff. Cordelia slapped him across the arm as she giggled into her dish, struggling to catch her breath. ****  
** **

“Oh, I’m watching alright. It’s hurting, but I’m watching,” he affirmed, shaking his head at the screen, having lost all hope in the movie after the actress’ fifth attempt at escaping, only to stumble and fall flat on her face once again. He was sat upright at the other end of the sofa, one long leg crossed beneath him as he absently swirled the glass of red wine between his fingers. “If he doesn’t stab her in a minute, I swear I’m going to.”   ****  
** **

Another mind-numbing five minutes passed before the remote was snatched from the table by Cordelia. “Guys, I can’t.” ****  
** **

Whizzer blinked as the television blackened, leaving them in almost complete darkness. “Thank fuck somebody had the brain cells to save ours from that shit.” He set his empty glass down on the table, leaning against the armrest of the sofa to face the others. “You guys want to watch something else?” ****  
** **

“Nah, I’m good,” Cordelia yawned, letting her head fall to Mendel’s lap. “I’ve gotta pick Charlotte up from her friend Zoe’s in a bit.” ****  
** **

“So, you guys are like… Together now? Is that right?” Mendel asked. ****  
** **

“Yeah, I mean, pretty much. She doesn’t really want to put a label on things, which, y’know, I am cool with. Like, I get it. Labels are so overrated, right?” ****  
** **

Whizzer considered this. “I think labels are important.” ****  
** **

“You do? Free as a bird, loose and ready-to-go Whizzer Brown cares about something as trivial as labels?” Mendel arched an eyebrow. ****  
** **

“Okay, first of all, if I were a lesser man, I would take offense to that. And second… Yeah. I do. Don’t you want to know what you are to somebody? I would. Even if the answer is nothing. I’d want to know,” he sniffed. “I don’t want to waste my time on somebody who’s not willing to be with me for real.” ****  
** **

A heavy silence followed. “I think…” Cordelia deliberated. “If you trust each other enough, and you care about each other to know what you are, yourself… I don’t care if nobody else knows. I know what Charlotte means to me. And I know what I am to Charlotte. That’s… Enough for me.”  ****  
** **

Whizzer turned over her words in his head, wondering why her words felt so targeted. She wasn’t talking about him… She was talking about Charlotte. So, why did it feel like she’d just fired a bullet through his brain?  ****  
** **

He hadn’t even realised Mendel had been staring at him until he spoke—softly—an abnormality to the likes of his brash, tactless, fumbling friend whom Whizzer had grown oddly fond of over the months. “You miss him.” ****  
** **

“I do,” he admitted, shifting on the couch and smiling sardonically. “But just because I miss him doesn’t mean he was any good for me.” ****  
** **

“How could you do it, Whizzer?” Mendel asked abruptly, his face hard. “To Trina. How could you put her through it?” ****  
** **

“If you’re looking for me to have some sort of excuse for it, I don’t have one,” he said sharply, having already berated himself through countless sleepless nights and come through the other end knowing he couldn’t find it in himself to justify his actions. ****  
** **

“Maybe some… _Regret_ would be appropriate,” he muttered, glancing at Cordelia for support. ****  
** **

“What do you want me to say, Mendel?” He shrugged. “That I think it was _wrong_ what we did? That I think it was _dirty_ and _depraved_ and _immoral_? Of course I do. Do I think it was wrong to knowingly go behind this poor girl’s back and ceaselessly fuck her closeted boyfriend whenever she looked the other way? Yeah. Obviously. But do I regret it?” He blinked, eyes drifting between the pair. “No. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like the asshole that I am, but I… Just don’t _care_ ,” he breathed. “I don’t really _care_ about Trina. And do you want to know why? Because I am _selfish_. Because I am a _selfish_ person. Because I forget about my friends when I start seeing someone. Because I didn’t care about sleeping with other guys when I _knew_ Marvin and I were dating and I _knew_ how much he was hurting because of it. Christ, we were about as labelled as a Black Friday sale, and I _still_ didn’t care. Because I care how Trina feels right now about as much as I care about the death of my second cousin’s senile dog. Because, in the end, _Trina_ won, and I don’t give a shit how much she’s hurting right now because it can’t be more than me.”  ****  
** **

After the words had left his mouth, he felt purged. Being honest for the first time in what felt like months had him revelling in the sensation of it. _This_ was the kind of person he was. ****  
** **

Cordelia blinked. “Is this a bad time to say I need to pick up my girlfriend?” ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

No one was particularly in the mood for Angelina Dellibovi’s birthday party that Friday night. Or, on second thought, perhaps it was just Whizzer. ****  
** **

“You know I love you, sweetie, but you’ve been moping around like a melodramatic princess for weeks now and you need to get out,” Cordelia smiled honestly, pulling the duvet from his shirtless body.  ****  
** **

He groaned, fingertips pressing into his eyeballs. “Get out.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer,” she said reasonably.  ****  
** **

“Go away, ‘Delia.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer, it’s five pm. This for your own good. If it helps, I heard Dean Norcroft is going to be there tonight, and you _know_ you’d make his night,” she said invitingly. ****  
** **

“Not funny.” ****  
** **

“Oh, come on.” He could hear her rolling her eyes. She paused, thinking. “I heard Marvin is going home to his parents’ tonight.” ****  
** **

That piqued his interest.  ****  
** **

She sensed his hesitation. “He’s going to be gone all weekend.”

Well, on the one hand, it did seem dangerously tempting to forget about everything by drowning his sorrows in alcohol. But, on the other hand, he was seriously beginning to sound like an alcoholic with that mentality. On the third hand, he could forget it all by finding some guy and getting fucked until every last one of his brain cells was obliterated. And on the fourth hand, Marvin wouldn’t fuck up his high. And he’d be home with his parents. And he’d never find out what Whizzer did that night. ****  
** **

Reluctantly, he acquiesced. ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

“Hey! Glad you could come,” Angelina grinned as she found them in the kitchen.  ****  
** **

Whizzer didn’t know her from Adam. He couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure she’d been in his junior philosophy class.  ****  
** **

“You guys want a drink?” She asked, the sparkles on her shirt making his head spin. ****  
** **

“Sure!” Cordelia responded excitedly, answering on behalf of the two of them. ****  
** **

While the hostess was making them up two drinks with—Jesus, that was a _lot_ of vodka—Whizzer began to scan the selection of guys here tonight. He was met with nothing but a disappointing selection of hypermasculine jocks and a group of juniors who look so ridiculously out of their comfort zone it was disconcerting. He was knocked from his thoughts by Angelina pushing the two drinks into their hands.  ****  
** **

“I’m going to go and mingle—you guys want anything, just let me know,” she winked before exiting the one and only conversation they were likely to ever have. ****  
** **

Having taken a regretful gulp of the concoctions their gracious host had conjured up for them, Whizzer raised his paper cup. “To our livers.” ****  
** **

“To our livers,” Cordelia grinned, knocking her paper cup against his. ****  
** **

* * * ****  
** **

Hours later, Whizzer found himself pressed against the wall of Angelina Dellibovi’s living room by Dean Norcroft, a proudly-out member of the track team whom he’d always found vaguely attractive from afar. He was rumoured to be a pretty nice guy, too. Not that Whizzer tended to go for nice guys.  ****  
** **

Whizzer felt Dean’s hands skim up the length of his body, slipping underneath his shirt and coming to rest on his ribs. He shivered, head feeling distinctly fuzzy. “Little frisky, Dean?” ****  
** **

He bit his lip. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” ****  
** **

“I know,” Whizzer murmured dazedly, nipping at the other’s lip.  ****  
** **

Dean groaned. “Come home with me.” ****  
** **

Instantaneously, the thought caused a wave of nausea to roll through his stomach. But—Dean was attractive. How much did he _drink_? His brain scrambled for excuses. “My friend is here.” ****  
** **

“Upstairs, then,” he panted, slipping his hand through Whizzer’s and towing him upstairs. Focusing solely on not stumbling over his own feet, he was powerless to do anything but follow. He lost track of time making his way through the throngs of people, finally reaching a door Dean pushed open without a moment’s hesitation. Absently, he hoped it wasn’t Angelica’s. ****  
** **

He was against the door before he could stop to think about it.  ****  
** **

Sliding his fingers through the other’s hair, Whizzer allowed his eyes to fall shut as he felt a tongue sliding its way down his neck, deft fingers unbuttoning his shirt. The body against his felt thick, muscular. Strong. Vital.  ****  
** **

He knew another body like that.  ****  
** **

The thought slipped into his head, innocuous and passive, and he let it linger. Let it linger all the way to the brink of ecstacy, with Dean’s mouth wrapped around him and a current coursing through the muscles of his thighs. Let himself come undone to the thought of strong fingers and thick hair and a pretty, charming mouth. He told himself the emptiness he felt was purely alcohol-induced. As if he hadn’t felt it for weeks now. ****  
** **

After an immeasurable length of time, he opened his eyes to find himself alone in the pink-walled room, bare feet cushioned against the soft rug. Any recollection of taking his shoes off was lost on him. ****  
** **

To close his eyes again felt nauseating. Back pressed to the cool bedroom, he slid until he hit the floor. His pants were still unzipped, his flaccid cock shameful to look at beneath the rose-tinted glare of the overhead lampshade. Vague, half-formed thoughts swarmed his head. Something was seriously wrong with him. What was it? He was all wrong. All, all wrong.  ****  
** **

He longed for those arms around him. ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

It didn’t help that everything in his classes seemed to revolve around Marvin.  ****  
** **

What did help was the fact that Marvin didn’t appear to be showing up to any of his classes this week. ****  
** **

Whizzer almost groaned aloud as the professor asked them to flick to page twenty three of their poetry anthology, the words ‘wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?’ bringing him to the brink of tears in complete and utter incredulity.  ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

It was nearing one in the morning when Whizzer heard a heavy thud at the door of their apartment.  ****  
** **

Yanked from his slumber, he drowsily rubbed his eyes, gathering his wits. He remained still, ears pricked.  ****  
** **

Moments later, the pounding began again. Panic flared in his chest. ****  
** **

Cautiously, he moved from his bed, making his way to the front door. It wasn’t until he was less than a meter away did he begin to hear the voice accompanying the sound. ****  
** **

Marvin. ****  
** **

Hope and fear gripped him at once, and he momentarily considered not opening the door.

Until he heard it.

“Whizzer…” Marvin’s voice groaned, over and over.

His heart began to pound at the anguished noise, reminding him of an injured animal. Before he could think on it once again, he yanked the door open.

Marvin stood at the doorway, an arm bent above his bowed head, leaning against the door frame with his eyes closed.  ****  
** **

Whizzer could feel his jaw slacken at the site, his stomach revolting at the sudden stench of alcohol permeating the air.  ****  
** **

As soon as he opened the door, Marvin’s eyes opened and he stumbled forward, a childlike joyousness spreading across his face. “Whizzer…” he smiled brokenly, “you opened the door…” ****  
** **

“What are you doing here, Marvin?” The sudden overwhelming urge to burst into tears did not escape him. This was his apartment. Marvin wasn’t meant to know about it. This was the only place Marvin couldn’t get to. ****  
** **

Marvin smiled, sadly. “Why do you think?” ****  
** **

“You can’t keep doing shit like this,” he breathed, feeling the growing horror spreading in his heart. “You’re scaring me.” ****  
** **

Marvin’s face fell. “But I… never wanted you to feel scared. I only ever wanted you to feel safe with me…”  ****  
** **

“Please,” he pleaded, “you need to leave.” ****  
** **

“Invite me in,” Marvin rushed to say then, panic filling his voice. “Just for a minute.”

He could feel himself growing cold. "But, it won’t just be a minute, Marv. It never is.” ****  
** **

“This time, it will be. I promise,” he reached forward, clenching Whizzer’s hands within his.

He snatched his hands back, ignoring the flash of pain in Marvin’s eyes. “I’ll talk to you out here. You’re not coming in.” ****  
** **

Marvin seemed at a loss for words. “I just wanted to know… How you are.” ****  
** **

He almost forgot how to speak. “I’m fine,” he said, voice stretched tight. “Better than fine.” ****  
** **

Marvin opened his mouth to speak before closing it, ducking his head and chuckling humourlessly. “Of course you are. Whizzer always lands on his feet…” ****  
** **

“Is that all you wanted?” He could feel his wariness rising by the second. ****  
** **

“I need to talk to you—please, just, open the door.” After Whizzer made no move to open the door, his face twisted in anger. “Open the fucking door, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

“If you can’t even be civilised to me out here, there’s no chance you’re coming in.” ****  
** **

He didn’t expect Marvin to attempt to force the door open. “If you would just—” ****  
** **

What with Marvin’s motor skills having been severely impaired, it wasn’t difficult to close the door over again, feeling a well of anger suddenly rise in him. Who did he think he _was_? “We’re done here. I gave you a chance, and you took advantage of it.” ****  
** **

“Whizzer, please—” ****  
** **

“Goodbye, Marvin.”  ****  
** **

He had almost completely closed the door when he heard something that shattered it all. ****  
** **

“She’s pregnant.” ****  
** **

At first, the words didn’t process. He blinked, his hand still holding the door ajar. “...What?” ****  
** **

Marvin seemed inexplicably smaller than usual. There was an unusual detachment to his words, as if he hadn’t truly registered them, either. “Trina… She took a test. She took more tests. She’s—” Marvin looked up then to meet Whizzer’s eyes, and the pure and unadulterated despair suddenly felt like a blow to his stomach. “Oh God, Whizzer, she’s pregnant.” ****  
** **

His hand fell from the door. Everything suddenly fell very, very quiet. Pregnant. Coldness spread through his body. There was going to be a _child_. ****  
** **

Marvin was going to be— ****  
** **

A _dad_. ****  
** **

His inaction seemed to have the reverse effect on Marvin.  ****  
** **

Marvin’s clear blue eyes suddenly began to blur, and then his cheeks were wet. ** **  
** **

And Trina was— ****  
** **

_Pregnant._ ****  
** **

Marvin’s body seemed to close in on itself, and Whizzer didn’t think he’d seen anything as disconcerting before. His hands clenched and unclenched in his hair, distress clear as anything in his eyes.  ****  
** **

Whizzer couldn’t move. ****  
** **

A _baby_. ****  
** **

It wasn’t until Marvin spoke that the numbness faded from his limbs. Soft, so quietly murmured in a child’s plea, he almost missed it, “ _help me._ ” ****  
** **

It was pure instinct that drew Whizzer to wrap his arms around the smaller of the two, running his hands comfortingly down his back, like a petrified animal. ****  
** **

Marvin choked into his neck, his hands clinging to Whizzer’s shirt like he depended on it. “What am I supposed to do, Whizzer? Tell me what to do. I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” ****  
** **

“Shh,” he combed Marvin’s hair back, feeling his heart hammering in his ears. “Everything will be alright.” ****  
** **

And, with more fear than he thought possible, Whizzer held them together. **  
**


	20. The Chess Game

“Careful, it’s hot,” he handed the ceramic mug to Marvin, careful not to spill the contents and scald his fingers. ****  
** **

“Thanks,” Marvin smiled, wiping one eye blearily as he moved to sit upright, covers falling from his bare shoulders. ****  
** **

A moment later, he had joined Marvin in the warmth of the bed, grateful to be out of the cold. Huddling closer to the other man, he pressed his face to Marvin’s chest, letting his eyes flutter shut to the comforting beat of Marvin’s heart. ****  
** **

He must’ve drifted off, as he was awoken by Marvin pressing his lips to his hair. “Whizzer,” he whispered. ****  
** **

“Hmm.”

“The scan is today.” ****  
** **

His eyes snapped open. “It is.” ****  
** **

Marvin hesitated at the sensitive topic before setting his mug down on the bedside table. He turned to face Whizzer, pulling the covers over his shoulders and lying parallel to the former. “Can you…” he bit his lip, eyes meeting Whizzer’s fleetingly. “Tell me what this one is for, again.” ****  
** **

The childlike vulnerability on Marvin’s face caused his lips to quirk fondly. He brought one hand to the other man’s bicep. “This one…” he explained, tracing a single finger down his arm. “Is the twelve-week scan. You’re going to find out the due date, if you have twins, and how the baby is developing.” ****  
** **

Marvin exhaled. “Big day.” ****  
** **

He intertwined his fingers through Marvin’s. “Are you nervous?” ****  
** **

Marvin squeezed his hand. “Not right now.”  ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

Okay, things had gotten complicated. ****  
** **

But it’s not as if it was his _fault_. It was no longer just about just him and Marvin—there was a _child_ involved. And, sure, it was beyond twisted that Trina’s pregnancy had brought them together once more.  ****  
** **

But he knew what he was doing. ****  
** **

He’d created distinct guidelines in his head. Right now, Marvin was in much too precarious of a position for Whizzer to cut him off. He was having a child, for Christ’s sakes. He needed support. And affection. Someone to stand by his side through anything, and pull him through the other end. ****  
** **

And, as much as he’d like to deny it, he wasn’t as cruel as he made himself out to be. He’d given up denying what he felt for Marvin, the intensity of his feelings rendering them virtually impossible to ignore, or combat. He didn’t _want_ to play games anymore.  ****  
** **

It appeared clear as anything to him why the two men simply, fundamentally, didn’t work. Just because Marvin could ignite a spark in the core of his being, didn’t instantly equate to their automatic success as lovers. Marvin could bring his blood to boil and cause the lining of his stomach to physically invert in on itself, but he was never going to be capable of being what Whizzer needed. They were simply too different. On a molecular level, they practically repelled one another.  ****  
** **

But, it seemed, none of that appealed to his common sense. Or, clichéd as it was, his heart.  ****  
** **

They were two souls much too reactive and unstable to exist together for an extended period of time. He knew that. And, yet, anything less polarised wasn’t what he wanted.  ****  
** **

Morbidly, he pondered over which rehabilitation centre he would attend after everything was said and done between them. Marvin _felt_ like a drug to him. And, self-destructive as it was, he couldn’t help riding out that high until he burned himself up, leaving only the ash in his wake. Was it psychotic that it brought him comfort knowing Marvin would be burning up with him every step of the way? That, if he was going down, Marvin was going down right with him? ****  
** **

His sensibilities ebbed at him gently. He could feel it on the outskirts of his subconscious, trying to get at him, to touch him, like an unwelcome friend cast out from his home. ****  
** **

The circumstances they’d landed themselves acted as a hand clenching around a detonating time bomb. Their time together was limited, and they only had so long before their paths would be forever wrenched apart, reduced to nothing more than lost lovers, stars, in the drowning metropolis which was New York City. Balls of gas barely holding themselves together, floating around in the cosmos in search of something that would burn as brightly as them.  ****  
** **

He and Marvin had an expiry date.  ****  
** **

So, what was the harm in combusting with his insufferable lover until they no longer had the option to?  ****  
** **

* * *   
The months passed quickly, and Whizzer watched Trina’s belly swell, the life inside of her a constant reminder of the little time they had left.  ****  
** **

Perhaps he was too focused on himself to acknowledge Marvin’s growing desperation. The toll it was having on him first became evident during a game of chess. ****  
** **

Marvin had suggested the game earlier that evening, recalling Whizzer’s agreement several months prior that he would allow the former to teach him to play. Which is how he found himself perched at the edge of his chair, sitting opposite a red-faced, tightly strung Marvin. ****  
** **

“Jesus, this game is a drag,” he lamented, propping his face up on his hand as he observed the silly little figures on the board dully.  ****  
** **

“It’s not boring, you just won’t let me teach you how to play,” Marvin said between gritted teeth.  ****  
** **

Whizzer sighed. “I don’t need you to teach me, I can learn it by myself,” he said, moving the white horse three spaces forward. ****  
** **

“Well, clearly you do,” Marvin rolled his eyes, picking up the little horse and moving it back three spaces. “That’s not how the knight moves.” ****  
** **

“Who gives a shit, this game is more dull than watching paint dry,” he returned, sliding a pawn two spaces diagonal.  ****  
** **

Marvin’s face was reddening across the table, that vein beginning to protrude in his forehead. “Are you going to play it correctly, or do I need to play a simpler game with you—snap, perhaps?” He fixed his lover with a patronisingly look. ****  
** **

“I’m just trying to liven up this stupid game, I can’t believe you actually _enjoy_ this,” he said incredulously, knowing the effect it would have on Marvin and feeling a dull sense of satisfaction as Marvin’s eyes narrowed. ****  
** **

“I like it because it’s tactical and complex, and it requires more than a single brain cell to think about,” he snapped. “Clearly, this is where your issues arise.” ****  
** **

“You’re embarrassingly transparent,” he gave Marvin a dull look. “I get it, you're insecure. But just because your parents never held you as a child doesn't give you the right to take that out on me.”  ****  
****

 

“At least my dad isn't afraid his fag of a son is going to turn him into a queen, too,” Marvin growled, standing abruptly and knocking over the board. “I’m over this, you can play with yourself.”

“Oh, like I do _every_ night to satisfy my neglected desires?” It wasn’t even remotely true, and they both knew it; if there was anything Marvin was good at, it was fucking. “Don’t you think it’s about time to grow up?” ****  
** **

Marvin slammed the bedroom door.  ****  
** **

That night, they made love in between whispered apologies. Their philosophy appeared to be inflict pain whenever they could and apologise later. An afterthought; better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. ****  
** **

How blatantly fucked up it was only served to spur them forward.  ****  
** **

The next time was during class. ****  
** **

Marvin and Trina sat one row ahead of he and Mendel, postures ramrod straight. ****  
** **

It was brought to his attention that something was wrong by Trina’s hissed breath between clenched teeth. “Well, what do you expect me to do about that?” ****  
** **

“I don’t know!” Came Marvin’s irritated response, equally as quiet so as to avoid suspicion.  ****  
** **

“ _You_ did this to me, Marvin,” her voice cracked. “Not anybody else. You, alone.” ****  
** **

His fingertips pressed into his eyeballs. “I know, Trin, Jesus, don’t you think I _know_ that?”

Whizzer didn’t ask about it. ****  
** **

Fortunately, he didn’t need to. ****  
** **

Marvin stormed into his apartment later that night, a scowl etched into his face. He didn’t appear to notice Whizzer’s half-clothed form sitting at the dinner table, scrolling on his phone as he devoured a grilled cheese sandwich.  ****  
** **

“That woman drives me _insane_ ,” he burst, pacing across the kitchen floor.  ****  
** **

“No ‘hi, honey, I’m home?’” Whizzer asked, chewing over his food.  ****  
** **

“Can’t she _see_ how stressed I am? She’s acting like I don’t care at all!” He steamrolled.  ****  
** **

“Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but I can guarantee she’s a lot more stressed than you are right now.” ****  
** **

Marvin stopped pacing, fixing his eyes on Whizzer. “Let’s have sex.” ****  
** **

“And who said romance was dead?” He rolled his eyes, taking another bite of his sandwich.  ****  
** **

“I’m serious,” Marvin huffed. “Let me blow you,” he offered, already getting to his knees in front of Whizzer. ****  
** **

His dick twitched in interest. “Okay, but wait ‘til I finish my sandwich real quick.” ****  
** **

He was coming minutes later with the bastard’s lips wrapped around him, his uneaten sandwich clenched in the palm of his hand.  ****  
** **

Later that night, he couldn’t sleep, thoughts of swollen stomachs and babies and little hats and socks occupying his mind.  ****  
** **

Marvin breathed deeply beside him, one arm strewn over his eyes and the other brushing Whizzer’s ribs as he slept. Whizzer observed his lover, the ironed planes of his face, the rise and fall of his chest, the parted lips. There was no denying the fact that he was beautiful, he couldn’t help but muse, especially when unaware, free of all conscious preoccupations. He felt his heart swell.  ****  
** **

“Go to sleep, Whizzer,” Marvin said drowsily, taking him by surprise. ****  
** **

“Can’t,” he rolled closer and Marvin’s arm instinctively moved to hold him. “M’thinkin’.” ****  
** **

“‘Bout what?” ****  
** **

“Trina…” he said honestly. “Do you think she knows? About us still…” ****  
** **

“Yes,” Marvin said shortly.  ****  
** **

He contemplated this, that same unpleasant feeling sitting at the pit of his stomach. “Marv... Do you ever get sick of arguing?” ****  
** **

Marvin blinked his eyes open at that, moving his face closer to the other man’s and pressing a kiss into his cheek. “What’s this about?” ****  
** **

He absently traced circles into Marvin’s sternum with his thumb. “Just wondering.” ****  
** **

Marvin thought for a moment. “Yeah.” ****  
** **

“With me?” He asked softly.  ****  
** **

The silence in the room stretched on, the sounds of the city that never sleeps as inconsiderate as ever. “No,” he said then. “No, not with you.” ****  
** **

* * *

And, yet.

“What the fuck are you writing?” Marvin asked as they sat huddled close together in the college library, attempting to complete their Poetics project once and for all. ****  
** **

“I’m just annotating.” ****  
** **

“Annotating what?” ****  
** **

“The epigraph of The Burial of the Dead.” ****  
** **

“Well, let me see,” Marvin moved to pull Whizzer’s notes towards himself. ****  
** **

He snatched them back. “I’m not finished.”  ****  
** **

“I don’t care, I don’t know what to include in mine,” Marvin snapped. ****  
** **

“Uh, well, why don’t you _think_ about it, as I am.” He was in the midst of describing the fate of Cumaean Sibyl when suddenly there was a pen line across his page and his notes were in Marvin’s hands.  ****  
** **

He felt a sudden, boiling anger, like live coal in the pit of his stomach. “Give that back to me.” ****  
** **

“In a second, I’m just reading it,” the other said, the telltale triumphant twitch of his mouth unhinging Whizzer. ****  
** **

He snatched the paper back. Inevitably, this led to Marvin retaliating in kind. ****  
** **

The paper tore messily down the centre. ****  
** **

Whizzer stood then, anger licking at him. “You are going to re-do my notes, and then you’re going to finish the project.” ****  
** **

“No, I’m not,” Marvin growled quietly. The pair were _just_ self-aware enough to keep the noise down inside a library. ****  
** **

“Yeah, you fucking are, Marv,” he took a step towards the other man, backing him against a bookcase in an attempt to shield them from prying eyes. ****  
** **

“Or what?” Marvin taunted. “What are you going to do?” ****  
** **

He suddenly grabbed Marvin’s clothed cock. The latter’s breath automatically hitched. “Or daddy doesn't even get to _touch_ daddy for a very, very... _Very_ long time.” ****  
** **

Marvin exhaled. “Don’t quote Margot Robbie to me.” ****  
** **

“Don’t change the subject.”

“As if you could hold yourself back,” Marvin smirked. “I’m sure we’re both aware that I’m the only one who can truly satisfy you.” ****  
** **

It was the excessive self-confidence, the delusion and undiluted egotism that brought on a fresh wave of rage. As if he _belonged_ to Marvin. He smiled. “Tell that to Dean Norcross.” ****  
** **

Something in Marvin’s eyes flickered. Doubt, perhaps. Hesitancy. “What?”

“Uh huh,” he smiled. “He fucked me _good_ earlier this week.” ****  
** **

Okay, so it was a lie. Well, not a _lie_ , per se. An alternative version of the truth, he’d call it. He did get fucked by Dean earlier this week—if earlier this week meant months prior and a good fuck constituted as a half-remembered blowjob during a party. ****  
** **

Not a lie.  ****  
** **

Before Marvin had fully processed his words, he continued. “And, actually, I’m meeting him tonight, so I really need to get going.” ****  
** **

Marvin remained rooted to the spot he was standing for a long time.  ****  
** **

Whizzer wondered why he did that. ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

Nights later, he’d promised Marvin he’d be over for dinner and a slow, sensual fuck on his living room rug. Contrary to his intentions, it just so happened to also be the night Cordelia had implored him to eat in with she and Charlotte so he could ‘get to know her better because Whizzer, honestly, you don’t know her at all and how can I marry her when my best friend doesn't even know her? Whizzer, how _can_ I?’ ****  
** **

Carried away with red wine and their bubbly chatter, he only just made it to Marvin’s apartment as it was nearing midnight.  ****  
** **

“Marv!” He yelled throughout the silent apartment. “Marvin, honey, where are you?” ****  
** **

No response came. He made his ways through the empty rooms, perplexed. “Marvin?” It was only as he came to the bedroom did he find a darkly-lit figure perched at the end of the bed.  ****  
** **

“Marv?” He said.  ****  
** **

Slowly, Marvin raised his head, the yellow light from the corridor illuminating his face. A certain detachment lingered in his eyes as he fixed his gaze on Whizzer, almost as if he were looking through his lover. “Where,” his said, voice rough from disuse, “where were you?” ****  
** **

Marvin didn’t think—no. “Uh, just at home. Cordelia invited Charlotte over for dinner,” he explained. He frowned a little. “Are you okay?”  ****  
** **

“Yeah,” the other man answered, and then was up and headed to the bathroom. By the time he’d returned, he made his way to the bed, averting his eyes from Whizzer. He sat on the side of the bed, the heels of his hands kneading into his eye sockets.  ****  
** **

Whizzer began unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt as Marvin pulled the duvet over his shoulders, facing away from the former. A moment later, he’d joined Marvin in bed. ****  
** **

The foot of space between them in bed felt like hundreds. He felt cold. He reached a hand over to trail his fingers across Marvin’s bare back. “Marv?” He said softly.  ****  
** **

He was met with no response, besides the regular huffs of his exhalations.  ****  
** **

“Honey, I was with Cordelia, you do believe me, right?” He said, fingers lightly dappling over Marvin’s skin. That elicited a response. ****  
** **

Marvin shifted away from his touch, his voice muffled. “Please—don’t say anything. I’d rather not be lied to. You don’t need to tell me.” ****  
** **

“But there’s nothing to tell,” he protested, softly grabbing Marvin’s shoulder so he could look at him. “Honestly, nothing happened,” he insisted gently. When Marvin did not shy away from the hand on his shoulder, he brought his head to rest on the other man’s chest, trying to offer comfort through touch.  ****  
** **

Whizzer kept telling himself Marvin would relax any second now, that he could melt into the other and he could once again feel the warmth perpetually trapped underneath his lover’s skin.  ****  
** **

It didn’t happen. ****  
** **

“It’s a boy,” Marvin said suddenly. ****  
** **

He lifted his head to observe Marvin’s facial expression. He was disappointed to find Marvin’s features devoid of any feeling whatsoever, blankly staring at the ceiling above him.

Whizzer tried to force a smile. “That’s good, right? Is that what you wanted?” ****  
** **

There was a heavy silence. “I suppose.” ****  
** **

He awoke in the middle of the night to find Marvin on the opposite side of the bed, shivering without the duvet covering him. ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

“It’s like she actually _wants_ me to feel guilty!” Marvin raked a hand through his hair, thankfully one hand remaining on the steering wheel.

“Wow,” Whizzer responded on autopilot, watching the trees pass in a blur through the car window.  ****  
** **

“Never thinks about _me_ for one second! I mean, I am suffering, too, y’know,” Marvin rolled his eyes. ****  
** **

“Uh huh.” ****  
** **

“She roped me into this!” He braked sharply at a roundabout. “It’s not like _I_ can get pregnant!”  ****  
** **

“Yeah.” ****  
** **

Marvin began babbling again, verging on hysteria. It was difficult to even feign interest after listening to the same complaints for months of end. He could predict every word falling from the other’s lips, as if the conversation were scripted and only Marvin had taken the trouble to memorise his lines. ****  
** **

“What would you do in that situation?” ****  
** **

His gaze had fixed on one small stain on Marvin’s car window and he’d completely lost focus of the conversation. He hazarded a guess. “Uh, I would be pretty annoyed.” ****  
** **

Marvin turned to look at him then, narrowing his eyes. “Have you been listening to a single word I’ve been saying?” ****  
** **

“Uh, yes, I have,” he said defensively. “And watch your speed,” he warned as they began to pick up pace. ****  
** **

Marvin ignored him, his foot not moving from the gas as he laughed loudly. “Oh my fucking God—does anybody _ever_ listen to me?” ****  
** **

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “I always do. Marvin, slow down.” ****  
** **

“You are the _one_ person who’s meant to stand there and shut the fuck up and look pretty and you can’t even do that!” He laughed again, the noise grating on Whizzer’s ears as Marvin’s hands clamped down on his head. ****  
** **

He could see a junction up ahead, cars piling up, and Marvin _wasn’t_ stopping. “Marvin, slow the fuck down!”

“Why is it no one can just fucking do what I tell them to do, things would be so much less complicated if people _listened_ to me, my life wouldn’t be so fucked up right now if people _listened_ to me—” ****  
** **

“Stop the car, Marvin!” He could feel his heart starting the thump in his ears, every car accident caused by arguments he’d ever seen in movies flashing through his head fasted than he could acknowledge. ****  
** **

He wasn’t going to stop. Whizzer squeezed his eyes shut. ****  
** **

Then, at the very last second, he was thrown forward in his seat, Marvin braking so suddenly he could’ve broken his neck. He hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing until he sucked in a gust of air. ****  
** **

And Marvin was— ****  
** **

_Laughing_.  ****  
** **

“Jesus, you were so scared. What did you think I was going to do, crash the car?” He mocked. ****  
** **

“Yeah, surprisingly,” he blinked incredulously.  ****  
** **

“Well, if that doesn’t teach you to listen to me, I don’t know what will,” he said, a disgusting flick of a smile twisting his face. ****  
** **

Whizzer had the sudden impulse to puke; he knew it wasn’t from the violent motion of the car. ****  
** **

* * *  ****  
** **

Marvin dragged the chest set from his cupboard. “Oh, look, Whizzer, let’s play your favourite game.” ****  
** **

“Not in the mood,” he responded, flicking the page of his magazine. ****  
** **

“C’mon. You said you don’t find it difficult to play.” Marvin responded, his tone like ice. “Prove it.” ****  
** **

He flicked his eyes up, settling on Marvin’s faux innocent expression. The latter flicked his eyes down to the chess set, and then back to Whizzer. He rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. “Fine.”

Sat opposite Marvin, he recalled everything he hated about the ridiculous game.  ****  
** **

“You start,” the other dictated. ****  
** **

Repressing the urge to cross his arms and sulk, Whizzer simply smiled wide and sweet in response. “Whatever you say, darling.” ****  
** **

He decided in that moment he was actually going to _try_ , for the sake of preserving his dignity and showing Marvin up. There was only one minor problem: he honestly _didn’t_ know how to play. He fixed his eyes on the two rows of white figures, examining each and every one. This couldn’t be too difficult. So—the horse… What did Marvin say, again? Went left? Oh, or was that the rook? No, no, the rook went straight, but it could go right, too. And forward? Maybe he would focus on the small ones at the front; they were safer. There were so many of them, their role was bound to be simple. He was pretty sure they only went forward one space, but didn’t want to make a fool of himself and feed Marvin’s sadistic pride.  ****  
** **

It didn’t seem to matter what he did, however, as long as he did _something_. He could practically feel the other man’s smugness increasing as the seconds of inaction passed. ****  
** **

Marvin leaned forward as if to speak.  ****  
** **

Impulsively, Whizzer took hold of the little figure with a cross on his head and made an attempt to move him forward. The action was halted by Marvin’s hand coming to rest on his, warm figures deceptively comforting. Marvin flicked his icy blue eyes to meet Whizzer’s. “That’s the king. You need to protect him. Don’t push him out into the open just yet.” ****  
** **

Marvin’s soft tone belied his true intentions, he knew it. He simply wanted to get Whizzer comfortable, so that he could yank the rug out from under his feet. He knew Marvin’s games too well. Pushing Marvin’s hand back, he responded. “Yes, I _know_. I wasn’t going to move him.”  ****  
** **

Marvin hummed in disbelief. Whizzer ignored him.  ****  
** **

The silence in Marvin’s expansive apartment suddenly brought on a newfound pressure he wasn’t accustomed to. He scanned the first row of his white figures again. He could move them. He was almost completely sure they only moved forward.  ****  
** **

“Do you want my help?” Marvin asked patronising as ever, inciting Whizzer’s own frustration. ****  
** **

“No, I don’t. I’m thinking it through. Just give me a minute,” he said, feeling his skin prickling under Marvin’s stare. ****  
** **

The other man raised his hands defensively, leaning back in his chair and tapping his foot on the floor. It wasn’t long before he was losing patience again. “Move, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

“I’m about to.”  ****  
** **

“No, you’re not,” Marvin rolled his eyes. “I’ll help you with it—just move _somewhere_.” ****  
** **

“I don’t need your help, okay, will you back off?” He snapped, feeling the anger bubbling from beneath his skin. He gripped the figure standing beside the king with two fingers. ****  
** **

“Not the queen,” Marvin laughed. “Jesus, what is wrong with you? You clearly don’t know how to play, just ask for my help!” ****  
** **

In contempt, he made no response. Marvin, evidently, didn’t recognise this for what it was. He leaned forward. “Here’s a hint: pawns are usually the first to be moved.” ****  
** **

At his blank look, Marvin indicated to the small figures. Right. He knew that. “Thanks, but I was about to do that.” ****  
** **

“Evidently.” ****  
** **

He moved the central pawn forward once. 

“You can move it two spaces on your first go, you know,” Marvin prompted. ****  
** **

“I know what I’m doing,” Whizzer crossed his arms.  ****  
** **

Marvin was in his element now, he knew. The assured line of his muscular shoulder as he leaned forward in his chair, legs spread open, practically radiated confidence.  ****  
** **

Marvin couldn’t win. _He_ would win. The fact that he knew almost nothing about the game was hardly going to stop him either. He knew other ways to make Marvin lose.  ****  
** **

Just as Marvin’s hand moved forward, Whizzer laid his palm on Marvin’s knee.  ****  
** **

Marvin startled, his eyes darting up to meet Whizzer’s devilish smirk. The former tilted his head questioningly, and Whizzer began to stroke the inseam of his pants with his thumb. A little smile came to rest on Marvin’s lips. “What are you doing?” ****  
** **

“Nothing,” he said innocently, leaning forward and resting his cheek on his palm as he lowered his lids, sultry and inviting.  ****  
** **

“You’re so transparent,” Marvin huffed, picking up a pawn with one hand.  ****  
** **

“Is it working?” He asked. His other hand met Marvin’s, gently caressing his fingers, pulling his hand gently from the piece and moving it to the knight. Maintaining eye contact with the other man, he moved the piece forward in a straight line, so that it was diagonal to his pawn.  ****  
** **

Marvin’s eyes darkened. “Give me a kiss,” he leaned forward, eyes fixed on the soft pink pout of Whizzer’s lips. ****  
** **

He leaned forward until his lips were mere inches from Marvin’s, before abruptly pulling back. With a flick of his wrist, he took Marvin’s knight with his pawn. “Ouch, Marv. I thought you said you were _good_ at this game.” ****  
** **

Marvin blinked. Realising what Whizzer had done, he rolled his eyes. “Play nice.”  ****  
** **

“Sounds like something a loser would say,” he taunted. ****  
** **

“I always win.”  ****  
** **

“So do I,” Whizzer raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Not this game,” Marvin warned, his eyes regaining their coldness.  ****  
** **

“We’ll see,” he responded, his voice saccharine.  ****  
** **

Marvin caught his collar then, pulling him forward. “One kiss?”  ****  
** **

His eyes flicked up to Whizzer’s, and when the latter didn’t pull away, he pressed his lips soundly to the other man’s, licking filthily into his mouth as he sucked and bit on his lower lip. Whizzer couldn’t help but let out a small whine as Marvin pulled away, Whizzer’s lower lip caught between his teeth. Marvin breathed. “How about we forget all of this, and you come back to my bed. I want to be inside you, baby.” ****  
** **

While the idea did send blood pumping straight to his dick, he shook his head. “I want to see you lose.” ****  
** **

“Very funny,” Marvin laughed before pulling Whizzer in again. “I like you Whizzer, but you’re not exactly… How should I put this delicately? You’re not… The _brightest_ ,” He smiled, eyes glinting dangerously. “You’re not going to win this game. Not everyone can be good at everything. You should just stick to quippy one liners and looking pretty.” ****  
** **

Marvin’s words were—was it _all_ just trash talk? Morale destroyers? It was becoming more and more difficult to distinguish between what was from the heart and what was a mere ploy to win the game, _their_ game, nothing more than battle tactics and collateral damage. Perhaps they were one and the same. Perhaps it didn’t matter. ****  
** **

“C’mere,” Marvin smiled, his palm holding the back of Whizzer’s neck. “You look so sexy right now.” ****  
** **

“That’s why you like me,” he said blandly. ****  
** **

Marvin’s eyes softened. “I _love_ you, Whizzer.” ****  
** **

And there it was, again. The words were foreign to him. Marvin had said them before. He didn’t know what to feel; he’d never been in love. So, what was this then? How could he put a name to something so complex? Did he _love_ Marvin? ****  
** **

He was interrupted by the other’s voice. “And you love me.” ****  
** **

His eyes flicked to Marvin’s. Did Marvin know if Whizzer loved him? Whizzer didn’t. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever know.  ****  
** **

There was a tense silence. “Don’t you?” ****  
** **

Marvin’s vulnerability brought on a new wave of anger. What right did he have to make _Whizzer_ feel guilty, when Marvin cared so little for _his_ feelings? Fuck Marvin. Fuck Marvin. Fuck him. He was smart. What in the fuck did Marvin know? The fucking bastard.  ****  
** **

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter, regardless,” he pulled away. “You need an _intelligent_ man, a smart little fucker who you can sink your dick into at the end of the day.” ****  
** **

Marvin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk like that.” ****  
** **

“Oh, you don’t like when I talk like this?” He said innocently. “Would you rather I shut my dimwitted little mouth permanently? After all, I can’t add anything valuable to the conversation. Oh, except for my dick-sucking abilities. I’ll get on my knees all day long as long as I have a nice, thick cock shoved down my throat. Speaking of, I’ll get on my knees right now. Invite your friends over, let them all have a piece of your pretty little fucktoy, Whizzer Brown.” ****  
** **

Marvin clenched the pawn in his fist, face reddening in anger. “Don’t fucking say things like that to me.”  ****  
** **

“Why? Isn’t that all I’m good for?” Whizzer said, starting to feel slightly hysterical. “Oh, don’t feel bad about it, sweetie,” he laid a hand on Marvin’s thigh. Marvin stiffened beneath his touch. “That’s what all the guys say to me.” ****  
** **

Marvin stood then, rage contorting his face. “Who the _fuck_ has been touching you?” ****  
** **

“Anyone I want,” he snapped. “Sit down. We’re still playing.”  ****  
** **

“There,” Marvin said, slamming the queen hard down onto the board. “I’m playing. _Who_ , Whizzer? Give me their names.” ****  
** **

“You want to know their names? Oh, we’re going to be here for a _while_ ,” he sneered, sliding his queen forward in kind. “Where to start… First was Brandon Lacey, and oh, _fuck_ , did I scream for him. Oh, he could fuck, alright. Southern. Sexy. And then there was Adam Briggs. Real gentleman, he was. Beautiful man. Who else? Oh, Trent Davidson. His _cock_ —” ****  
** **

“You better shut the fuck up, Whizzer,” Marvin hissed, voice dangerously low.  ****  
** **

“I’ll shut the fuck up if you let me win,” he raised his eyebrows challengingly.  ****  
** **

“Great,” Marvin snapped before bringing his king out from behind a pawn.  ****  
** **

Whizzer took full advantage of this, instantly trapping the figure in a ring of pawns. “Ha, Whizzer wins,” he said triumphantly, taking Marvin’s king. He grinned smugly at Marvin. “Didn’t I tell you I’d win? I _always_ win, Marv.” ****  
** **

Marvin was staring at the floor, dangerously quiet. “Get out.” ****  
** **

“Okay, fun’s over, I’m ready to fuck now,” he laughed, getting up and sitting on Marvin’s lap. ****  
** **

“Now,” Marvin shouted then, shoving Whizzer to the floor in a whirlwind of rage. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Whizzer!” ****  
** **

He blinked from his position on the floor, utterly confused, his ass aching from the fall. This was different. “Huh?” ****  
** **

“I don’t want to see your face again! I can’t go through this again—I can’t trust you! You-you _lie_ to me,” Marvin said, his eyes blinking frantically. “You are _dirty_ , Whizzer. You’re all used up. Jesus, what was I thinking? I’m having a _child_. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time with you,” he laughed, wild and out of control. “You were right. You _are_ the last person I could ever fall in love with. You are _damaged_ , Whizzer Brown. You are fucked up beyond repair. I am _done_ trying to fix you.”

“You wasted your time?” Whizzer gaped, reeling. His heart was beating too fast to register. “ _Fix_ me? What are you even—” ****  
** **

“Get the fuck out, you _whore_ , before I make you,” Marvin hissed, his face twisted to ugliness. ****  
** **

“Gladly,” he choked out, scrambling to his feet and to the door. He turned back to see Marvin throw one of Whizzer’s pieces to the floor, kicking over the chess board in a frightening fit of pure and unadulterated rage. 

 

 

That was the last time he saw Marvin.


	21. It's Been More Than Words Can Tell

Lost. It was the only way he could describe those last few weeks before graduation.

He moved through his classes in a daze, his head filled with little else but Marvin. Of his terrifying, sincere face as he left his apartment. There didn’t appear to be an end in sight to it, the days which rolled together, daylight filled with nothing but sawdust and cotton wool. The night which no longer emanated its mysterious, elusive beauty; he slept through it. 

He couldn’t escape the endless torrent of images which circulated his brain at every minute of the day. Marvin beneath the glare of the moonlight, passing a half-finished joint between two fingers, dark eyes glinting. Inviting him in; into that world inhabited with shadows and secrets. Marvin with a spoon of ice cream between his lips, laughing and shaking his head, recalling the time his cousin had dressed him up for a two-man play, a one-man play, really, in which he manifested into whichever piece of furniture was required during the scene. Marvin biting at his earlobe as Whizzer played into the act that he knew anything of cooking, anything at all other than how to stand before the stove in the nude. French, he’d called it; it was what the French did. The Dire Straits CD on, always on. Marvin holding him under the covers at night, two boys hidden in sheets of white, whispering across skin, hair, lips. _Love_. 

And laughing—often laughing. More often than he recalled, obscured by impassioned speeches of trust, of loyalty, of belonging to one person; of sharing, of _if you really love me, why do you want to change me_? And what did they know of love? Love was so much greater than two boys hidden in sheets of white.

He was half. Torn messily down the centre, they were split. Had the epigraph for The Burial of the Dead ever held such worth? The Cumaean Sibyl would have waited; surely, she could’ve waited.

This, perhaps, felt different because he couldn’t hope to control it; had it not been Marvin who dug his feet into the ground and cast him out, mouth acrid and unforgiving? Perhaps any time they’d separated, he’d known they would come together once more sometime. It had always only been a matter of time. Now—

Now, with Trina rising at the break of dawn to rush to the bathroom, he knew there wasn’t a chance. 

Perhaps it was about time they grew up.

And, yet, he knew his and Marvin’s souls were so entwined, in detaching himself, part of himself would be replaced by his lover. His _love_. Marvin.

Simply put, life without Marvin was—

Well, it was boring as shit. 

* * * 

And, after the initial shock had worn away, he would be greeted with his lover one last time, weeks after graduation. As if the universe was simply _daring_ him to consider recovering. 

He could feel the moisture collecting on his palms as he slid into the booth of that same garish ice cream parlour, light-headed and undeniably afraid. 

And there he was. Sitting opposite, that same vile plaid shirt and green jacket, wrenching up a nostalgia in him he hadn’t been unfamiliar with these past few weeks. And his hair—the boyish wave through it, soft to the touch; he hadn’t forgotten. Wide, unblinking eyes. Blue, undeniably so. He was lost.

And all at once, bitterness seeped from him like he was hemorrhaging. He smiled, tentative. “Hi.”

Marvin’s face had gained colour since he’d last seen him. He looked warmer. His eyes were glassy as he reciprocated the other’s smile. “Hi.”

Whizzer twisted his fingers together under the table and tilted his head. “You look lovely. New jacket?” 

Marvin laughed then, the noise melodic and honest. His heart clenched. “Not quite. But, you know what they say.”

“No, what do they say?” He smiled, amused and humouring.

“The best things come in old packages.”

Whizzer frowned, bemused. “I don’t think they say that.”

Marvin let out an amused huff. “No, I don’t think they say that either.”

A beat of silence passed between them. He felt they had always understood one another; there was no awkwardness in it. 

“How have you been?” Marvin asked.

“Sad,” he said honestly. “I miss you a lot.”

Marvin was not surprised. “Me also. I think about you, often.”

It was almost as if the fortified state they’d kept their thoughts in for the better part of a year had instantaneously dissolved in the knowledge that they wouldn’t take advantage of the other’s confessions when drawn out and vulnerable in this way; they knew they weren’t going to see one another after this day.

“And Trina?” He asked, hesitant. 

“I want to be there for her. You have no idea what it was like seeing the ultrasound, Whizzer,” he said, open. “It was—I don’t know what came over me, but it— _he_ —he’s… Mine. It wasn’t like anything else.”

Although he could feel himself aching from the inside out, he smiled. “I’m glad.”

Then, Marvin, hand slow and shaking, reached across the table. As easy as anything, Whizzer slipped his into Marvin’s. Marvin’s hand clenched his tightly, his palm equally as moist as Whizzer’s own. 

“It seems like a waste,” Whizzer said sadly, watching their two hands together. The way they were supposed to be. “Us, ending like this.”

Marvin did not respond, merely letting out a choked swallow.

“No one ever seemed to get me, but you,” he continued. His lip turned up as he let out a chuckle. “Even if you are an unbearable asshole.”

Marvin blurted a laugh, the noise wet and sad. “I… Was never so honest with someone as I was with you. Jesus, you drove me up the wall,” he snorted, before pausing. “It was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, stop,” Whizzer rolled his eyes, feeling them welling up. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Sorry,” Marvin smiled, looking down at the table. “Do you think we’ll see each other again after this?”

Whizzer looked at him, into him. He shook his head, just the slightest bit. “But you can always catch me on a night out. I’ll be the one who can actually dress.”

Marvin smiled. “I know where to find you.” He paused then, thoughtful. “Whizzer…” he began hesitantly. “I can’t let you leave until you know that… I didn’t mean what I said. Last time I saw you. If I never see you again, I just—need you to know,” he said, unguarded and vulnerable, the desperation on his face clear as anything.

The well of emotion that clawed at his throat then took him by surprise. His heart swelled to double its size. “Oh, Marv,” he brought his hand to the other’s cheek. “I—for something I’ve never understood, it seems to me quite simple now. You are—you’ll always be,” he brought Marvin’s hand to his own chest. “Part of me—that is, you’ll be here.”

“You’ll know where to find me,” Marvin smiled sadly. Their hands unwound from one another. There was nothing left to say.

“Goodbye, Marv,” he said, his very soul fracturing more and more each passing moment.

“Bye, Whizzer,” Marvin smiled, bittersweet. “I’ll catch you among the nightlights.”

“Damn right,” he laughed before moving, withdrawing and walking away. He cast one last look to Marvin, pressing his palm to his chest and grinning. “Right here.”

The beautiful, tormented man he’d come to love merely smiled, and laughed, as he let the door softly shut behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost at the end guys :) xx


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